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The Enemy Within 


By 

G. E. MORTON 


SAULSBURY PUBLISHING COMPANY 

BALTIMORE, MD. 


By Author, 1918 



JAN -6 1919 


J. F. TAPLEY CO 
New York 


The Enemy Within 


i 

The two conspirators sat facing each other across a 
typical office desk, wide and flat and littered with the 
odds and ends of business routine. They were study- 
ing each other, the past and the future. For more than 
a year now had they been building up with infinite 
care all the manifold intricacies of a great coup, build- 
ing it up to a fitting climax, yet not in manner or tone 
or gesture was there the vaguest hint of anxiety or 
concern reflected from either man. Which was, among 
other things, what they had been striving for. 

To appear a typical business man; doing conven- 
tional things in a conventional way ; saying the proper 
things in a proper way; meeting the right people in 
the right places ; following the rut of business and so- 
ciety, that had. been the aim of Andre Merwin, whose 
name now occupied premier place in that most conven- 
tional of all conventional things, a firm design adorn- 
ing a door plate ; this particular one informing the 
interested public that the legal firm of Merwin, Lang- 
ton & Pendick had chosen this definite nook in 
which to screen its daily duties from the eyes of the 
world. 

Even though seated, one might guess that Andre 
Merwin was tall and slim, elegantly dressed, without 
ostentation, yet without too great modesty, with that 


4 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


fine shading of delicacy which a well-to-do legal gen- 
tleman might be expected to display. One could see 
as well that his countenance, though rather thin of 
feature, had been ironed smooth of any semblance of 
guile, that it was open and frank, that his eyes were 
laughing and welcoming, and that he must surely have 
that ready hand-grasp which all great men have learned 
to attain. As for his companion, Matt Croucher was 
of a different mould. There was about him that lax- 
ity of limb and muscle, that care-free disregard for the 
conventions of correct costuming, together with a bulk- 
iness of frame and a "self-complacent good-humor upon 
his broad visage which had never yet raised a flicker- 
ing of doubt when men had been informed that 
Croucher was a retired sea captain who had consented 
to while away the sunny slopes of life by taking charge 
of Andre Merwin’s sea-going yacht. Such were Andre 
Merwin and Matt Croucher. At least, that is what 
any one of a thousand business men would have an- 
swered had he been asked. Most certain is it that in 
neither face nor form nor outward life of either man 
was there the slightest suggestion of the conspirator. 
For Andre Merwin was obsessed by an obsession, that 
the highway of life must be the path of rectitude, until 
the proper moment comes. 

Just now, as he watched the older man, the soft 
little lights of pleasure crept into his eyes. For in the 
soul of Merwin was somewhere the instinct of the 
artist. 

“The game would be almost worth while for the 
game itself, Matt,” he was saying, with the cultivated 
tone of the typical business man. “So that sometimes 
I almost regret that we are nearing the end. For the 
past year has been a game, Matt, a game of wits, and 
we have played it with the finesse of the artist, with all 
this scenic investiture which we have wrapped about 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


5 


ourselves, until I warrant it the whole town would 
swear we are what we seem to be.” 

Merwin stopped for retrospection, which, judging 
by the play of emotions which he permitted to toy with 
his features through a moment of weakness, could 
scarcely have been displeasing. 

“But, Matt,” he continued, as he reached out his 
arms luxuriantly, “we must not grow careless in the 
moment of victory, we must not lose an eye to the im- 
portance of detail. Care for detail, my dear Croucher, 
may mean success or failure, it may mean the splitting 
of a few cold millions, or — or ” 

“One can readily appreciate your delicacy upon such 
a point,” Croucher intervened, his voice somehow rem- 
iniscent of the volume of the sea. “You are doubtless 
thinking of that drab future which one inevitably as- 
sociates with bars and balls and chains.” 

“Have it your own way,” Merwin returned, with 
seeming indifference. “You have worked well in har- 
ness, Matt, you have played in life such a part as was 
never played before the footlights, but back of it all 
there is in you, in repression, an element of crudeness 
which even I can never stamp out. But think now, 
Matt, think of the details. Remember this, let but the 
first breath of suspicion reach Cheever Rhoades that it 
is the Secretary of State of a foreign Government 
whom I represent, and not that of his own country, 
and, well — it will not be success, and we just a few 
days short of the winning. Remember that while 
Rhoades has a monochrome brain which makes him a 
ready victim of our — our artistry, you have a different 
proposition in Harney Inwood. While Rhoades only 
furnishes the brains, Inwood supplies the coin. Just 
now he seems the most indifferent person alive. I 
doubt if he even knows how Rhoades is spending the 
money or what he is inventing. But then again he’s 


6 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


a sportsman, and, once stirred up, who knows what 
might happen?” 

“In other words, you mean that Rhoades, with the 
brain of a genius and the patriotic fervor of a fanatic, 
didn’t expend them all upon such a submarine as his 
to turn over to a foreign Government?” Croucher 
stretched his arms indolently and yawned, then abruptly 
all the listlessness was gone, his arms came down, and 
the wide, spatulate hands spread over the desk as 
though all the fires of aggression were burning through 
his veins. “My God, Andre! Why must I pose and 
pose, pose like a man who laughs with a noose about 
his neck? What I want is action. Why don’t you 
finish the deal to-day, let me get my rake-off, and 
go 

Just as abruptly as he had broken loose did the big 
man pause and, with a deliberate act of the brain, 
smooth away from voice and manner and feature all 
trace of eagerness, until once more he seemed some gi- 
gantic power under careless repression. 

“That is better, Matt,” Merwin returned, having 
watched the swift changes without the flicker of an 
eyelash. “An outbreak, if properly timed, is benefi- 
cial. It helps to consume the fuel of indiscretion. 
Yet I feel you lack a delicate appreciation of our his- 
trionic skill. Do you feel no justifiable pride in the 
roles we have created and are playing? Remember, 
that to be successful in such a venture as ours, one 
should have his every gesture, word and inflection un- 
der perfect control. Remember that a single word 
may put Rhoades or Inwood upon his guard. Now let 
us rehearse our parts again, remembering that, to en- 
sure success, one must not only anticipate and prepare 
to meet the other man’s most probable action, but he 
must be ready to meet his every possible act. Now 
put yourself ” 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


7 


“That’s all right, Andre,” Croucher interjected his 
bass monody. “I’ll admit that you’re the artist and 
the actor, and you can get all the thrills you like from 
your cleverness, but why not bring things to a head 
to-day? The sub is a success, both parties are ready 
for the deal. Rhoades thinks he is selling to his own 
country, and as for the others, thank goodness, they 
have no finicky scruples ; so long as they get the thing, 
they don’t care how. We buy at our own price, and 
sell at our own price. Now why dally around with 
this artistic appreciation of yours until somebody gets 
wise? The test has been approved, Ling Yong Po, 
right bower or High Chancellor or something else to 
his Most Imperial High Lord-Lord, His Greatness 
the Emperor or something else, has seen to that all 
right. And he has the coin. I saw bales of it yes- 
terday, and my fingers are itching to split up the 
boodle.” 

“Patience, my dear Croucher. When we have 
woven a beautiful fabric through the past year, must 
we spoil it on the last day? Think of details and 
watch. Watch my word and manner. If I say or do 
a single thing which makes me seem other than the 
average man, check me up, Matt; that’s what you’re 
here for. Now put yourself in Rhoades’ place, and 
if ever your brain was busy, make it work while I talk, 
and, Matt, watch for the flaws. 

“Now, Rhoades, you are a clever young man, care- 
less in business details, but with a wonderful, inventive 
brain. You discover a way to turn the ordinary sub- 
marine into something which threatens to be a terror 
to the world, which promises immunity to the nation 
possessing it. And you are building it to sell or give 
to your own country, because you are a bug on nation- 
alism. But you detest all business and its detail. Then 
along comes a bright young man called Benson, a 


8 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


clever secretary fellow, who takes all that detail off 
your mind, but whom you cannot know has been 
planted on you. You put confidence in him. Then 
when your invention is nearly complete, he suggests, 
or rather insinuates so cleverly that you fancy the idea 
grew in your own brain, that you get in touch with the 
Department of State with a view to selling. Benson 
writes the letter for you. In due time back comes a 
letter on the Department’s stationery, with all its offi- 
cial appearance correct to the letter, with a signature 
which the Secretary himself could not dispute — smart 
young fellow, that Benson, has spent a lot of time and 
patience on his art — in which you are informed that 
the Department is greatly interested, so much so that it 
enjoins more than ordinary secrecy. In fact, it would 
be unwise for you to talk of your invention even to 
your friends, for secrecy in the acquisition of such in- 
novations is the policy of the Department. So greatly 
is the Department interested that it is communicating 
with its special confidential agent entrusted with such 
matters on the Pacific Coast, a shrewd business man, 
formerly in the Department at the capital, who was 
sent to look after the Western territory about a year 
ago and who has set up a legal business in San Fran- 
cisco, your own city; a clever man and a capable one, 
who is being asked to get in touch with you, with a 
' view to a purchase of the plans and specifications and 
the submarine iteslf. 

“The man is a Mr. Andre Merwin, of the firm of 
Merwin, Langton & Pendick. Possibly you have met. 
At any rate, you will find him a very pleasant 
chap to deal with, and fully entitled to speak for the 
Department. Now, Matt, remember you are still 
Rhoades. Had you met him? Of course Andre 
Merwin had seen to that. 

“Matt, let me digress a moment to show the artistry 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


9 


of that, the psychology. Was Cheever Rhoades called 
upon to do business with a total stranger, one against 
whom he would subconsciously be on his guard? No, 
the path was smoothed for him, and he did so detest 
business. He was only asked to discuss a business 
question with a man whom he had learned to call his 
friend, a man who had insinuated himself into his ac- 
quaintance quietly and delicately, a man whom he first 
met casually at his clubs, at golf, at luncheons, whom 
he discovered in his slow reasoning way to be likable, 
to be worthy of friendship, a man whom everybody 
called an Honest John. Let me digress further, Matt, 
to say that should you ever wish the role of an Honest 
John, never pose as one. That in itself invites suspi- 
cion. But remember how Langford of the Examiner, 
properly subsidized, never lost an opportunity to tack 
the name to me, and how I, in just anger, lashed out 
against the odious thing, and did little innocent, rakish 
deeds which but made men laugh and fasten the name 
to me all the tighter. 

“But to get back. Rhoades was asked to do busi- 
ness with a friend, one who had broken bread with 
him in his own house, with a man to whom he would 
naturally turn for help. Then when he speaks of the 
matter to the friend, the friend but laughs and treats 
it as a joke. But the next day the friend calls him 
up, apologizes, says that he too has heard from the 
Department of State, congratulates him, and offers to 
take all the burden off his hands. 

“So far, Matt, it seems good, a beautiful piece of 
work, right up to the point of testing the sub. But 
wasn’t it a little jagged when Ling Yong Po — he’s not 
a Chancellor, Matt, he corresponds to our Secretary 
of War — stepped in and insisted upon seeing with his 
own eyes and feeling with his own hands? But per- 
haps Ling Yong got his due when he had to serve as 


10 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


valet to one of your hired thugs — Kingway, wasn’t it? 
— who, by the day, dresses up as a very presentable 
Vice-Admiral. Has something of a figure and a man- 
ner, that boy Kingway, puts some intelligence into his 
interpretation of his roles, and looks fine in the uni- 
form. Happy thought of Benson’s, that, to get 
Rhoades to let him wire the Department to have a 
personal representative present at the initial test, es- 
pecially when we had a man like Kingway to fill in 
with. You weren’t so bad yourself, Matt, suggesting 
that we phone all the dailies to have men present at the 
test. It was rather worth it, to see the scare it gave 
Rhoades. Perfectly good fellow, Rhoades, and docile. 
Interprets our injunction of secrecy quite literally. 
Well, do you find any flaws?” 

“Andre, you’re so smooth I’m afraid to touch you 
for fear I’d slip and sprain my wrist,” the big man 
conceded, not without admiration, “and the little devil 
wallows in it like a pig in mire. It’s the joy of his 
life. Some day, Andre, when I take a fancy to a few 
of the crowns of Europe, I’ll send you over for 
them.” 

“Staging and costuming and a front are the whole 
battle,” Merwin philosophized. “Few men think to 
look behind the stage. All men believe the obvious. 
Hence this typical office, with its typical routine, and 
me with my typical life, and so on. ’Tis but the logi- 
cal development of an idea. I would wager, Matt, 
that after we have gathered our winnings we could 
live on here for months in the old way, and no one the 
wiser.” 

“Wager if you like, Andre,” the other interposed 
hastily, “but as for me, I go — well, where goes the fog 
of the morning?” And he kissed his fingers to the air 
to prove it. 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


11 


“So much for Rhoades, but there is still Inwood,” 
Merwin began ; but Croucher lumbered to his feet im- 
patiently, as though he had enough of it. 

“Thumbs down for him, Andre,” the big man re- 
sponded. “Count him out. He may have the money, 
but since it fell into his lap from the paternal tree you 
can’t expect him to be much of a watch-dog. Rather a 
bore to look after so much of it. Finances Rhoades, 
you know, as any decent chappie would, but really it’s 
up to Rhoades to make good and not bother him with 
details. That sort of a chap. No, he’s not much in- 
terested in anything but polo and airships.” 

“Not now, perhaps. But if he should suspect, he 
has both the energy and the means to make a warm 
race for us.” 

“You mean, when he suspects — after we are over 
the hill and hid in the dust? Well, what should we 
care who chooses to use the roadway after we’re 
through with it?” 

“I guess you’re right, Matt, there is little left but to 
stand back and admire our work.” 

“There you go again, the artistic crook. Are you 
sure that isn’t a pose as well? What I want to know 
is, are you going to see Rhoades to-day and finish up 
the deal?” 

“You are still too crude, Matt. In this new school 
there are no such things as — crooks. I dislike the 
word; it smacks of ignorance. We are rather the 
profiteers of brains. Yes, I have an appointment with 
Rhoades at his house at three. And, well, I guess 
there are no flaws. We may safely say that only the 
most unforeseen of improbabilities can beat us now, 
Matt.” 

And with that, Andre Merwin rose from his chair, 
carefully selected a typical business fedora and a typi- 


12 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


cal business stick, flicked his garments clean of imag- 
inary specks, and without further attention to his fel- 
low-conspirator, stepped through the doorway and into 
an elevator which quickly whirled him into Market 
Street. 


II 


In quite another part of the city — to be more defi- 
nite, in a delightful old-fashioned home on Stanford 
Heights — the intended victims of Andre Merwin’s 
artistic coup were discussing the same question, though 
from quite a different angle. 

‘'When he said he’d be here at three, he’ll be here at 
three, be it rain, thunder, or only ordinary sunshine,” 
Cheever Rhoades was saying. “That’s all that’s wrong 
with him. He’s so punctual you could time a race by 
him, and so punctilious the club no longer subscribes 
to fashion sheets.” 

“Then why don’t you sit down and stop wandering 
around as though you had to keep your eye on the sun 
to make sure it does its work?” Harney Inwood re- 
turned, carelessly adjusting himself into the depths of 
a morris chair. “As for me, I never worry. And 
just look at me. There’s nothing fitter on the Pacific 
Coast.” 

Cheever Rhoades looked, and perforce agreed. 
What he saw was a slimly built young man, somewhere 
under the thirties, without a gray hair on his head or 
a care on his countenance. There was a ruggedness 
about the face and a lithesomeness about the limbs 
which bespoke the violence of much exercise, and a 
brownness of hands and cheek which told of conflict 
with the wind and the sun. Even in repose, Inwood 
reflected a certain indolent grace, but there was noth- 
ing about his manner to betoken any great mental con- 


14 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


centration — even his friends must admit that — good 
fellow and all that he was. Just now, having tired of 
badgering his companion, he settled back to do nothing 
in particular. 

Cheever Rhoades was of quite another type. Less 
precise of dress, even careless of personal appearance, 
heavier of frame, with muscles equally hard from a 
different class of work, stronger of face, with a slower, 
steadier eye, which told of high development. But 
now Rhoades, with success blinking in his face, lacked 
his customary calm. 

“Then why can’t you wait until Merwin comes and 
see the deal through?” Rhoades demanded. 

“Can’t be done. Got to catch a train for Sandy. 
Play the Barrancas to-morrow afternoon. Besides, 
that’s your business. Never could be bothered with 
details ; just tell me how it lumps up in the end.” 

“But out of courtesy to Merwin, you should stay,” 
Rhoades protested. “Remember all he has done for 
me. 

“Stodgy old boy, that, but quite lacks imagination. 
Just the sort I’d like to handle my stuff. Precise and 
reliable. One’d never have to do a thing but cash the 
dividends. Such a relief to put all one’s burdens on 
others; think I’ll take it up with him. Well, Cheeve, 
I must be off. Ah! here’s good old scout Benson. 
What’s the boy want now ? Forget it, Benny, old boy, 
whatever it is. Drop that gray mantle of business and 
come on down to Diego to see me ride the ponies. You 
need some sunshine to keep you young.” 

The person thus accosted was a sober-visaged, some- 
what pale-faced youth of twenty-two or three, dressed 
older and soberer than his age should permit, the 
epitome of business, of rigid adherence to rule and 
duty, but there seemed sufficient of youth left to reach 
out and respond to the call of Harney Inwood’s youth. 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


15 


He smiled at his older and much gayer acquaintance. 

“It’s Robinson, Air. Rhoades’ chauffeur, sick this 
time, Mr. Inwood,” the businesslike youth replied, quite 
formally, “and a fellow who calls himself a brother is 
here. He says if the car is to go out this afternoon 
he’ll take Robinson’s place.” 

“There, he’s off again,” Inwood bantered. “ ‘Calls 
himself a brother.’ What a suspicious watch-dog, 
Benny ! And haven’t I told you to call me Inny ?” 

“We’re to go out at three with Mr. Andre Merwin, 
to take a run through the park, Benson,” Rhoades in- 
formed, and remained watching silently until the youth 
had left the room, when he turned to his companion. 
“Now, Harney, you shouldn’t torment Benson so. 
He’s the most useful fellow I ever had, never overlooks 
a detail. Of course, it’s Robinson’s brother. It’s a 
luxury to have a man like Benson around.” 

“Going to raise his salary when the deal’s through? 
Well, as I said before, I’m off. Get me at the Coro- 
nado if there’s anything to sign. Glad I haven’t your 
brains, Cheever. They’d keep my nose to the grind- 
stone till I wore out the stone. Drab stuff, that busi- 
ness. Love to Andy.” 

And with a wave of his hand and a flip of his cig- 
arette, Inwood was through the door and down the 
steps to his own waiting car, into which he sprang, 
to dash away, himself at the wheel. For he despised 
chauffeurs as carelessly as he defied the fling of time. 

There was a mingled look of envy, and admiration, 
and affection upon the face of Cheever Rhoades as he 
stood before the window watching that retreating 
symbol of youth. Envy for a certain buoyancy and 
freedom of youth which he himself had never known, 
admiration for his cool disregard for the creeping of 
time, affection for all that Harney Inwood had done 
for him in the past, had done and dismissed with the 


16 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


same careless fling of the hand. Rhoades straight- 
ened with a little thrill of pride. He had justified 
Inwood’s confidence, though the other had imposed no 
terms. He had fulfilled the other’s predictions of 
success, though Inwood had talked of that success 
without caring to know the bent of his brain or which 
road he was following. 

So Rhoades watched as long as he could catch a 
glimpse of the speeding car, then he turned away 
with a burst of spurious activity. He left the gen- 
erous living room in which he had talked with Inwood, 
and crossed into a smaller room at the side, a com- 
bination library, den, and office-workshop, with French 
windows looking down upon the long silvery ribbon of 
the Bay, which sprawled below like some giant monster 
of the sea, its supine limbs outflung in repose. There he 
found Benson, busying himself as usual with papers. 
But when Rhoades tried to help, tried one thing after 
another in the hope of concentrating his brain, he 
could not. In time he recognized the futility of effort, 
recognized as well that the first flush of victory had 
caught him with its fever. In time he gave it up, gave 
himself over to wandering about the great house until 
Andre Merwin should come. 

The younger man met him in the portico beyond the 
doorway, and mingled with his smile of greeting there 
were little reflective lights in the eyes of Merwin. With 
this eagerness on the part of Cheever Rhoades, it was 
all so easy, so simple as to rob the older man of some 
of the pride in his artistry. 

“On the second, as usual, Merwin,” Rhoades greeted 
his visitor. “How I wish I had your reputation for all 
that is right and proper.” 

“My dear boy, you have something greater,” Merwin 
returned, as he allowed a touch of admiration to creep 
into his eyes. “You have the brain to devise. As for 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


17 


me, I have but the brain of a machine. I but follow 
the ruts worn deep by generations. As for you, you 
flit in the air, with the clouds, wherever the nimble 
fancy of your brain can take you. The world is at 
your feet. It reaches out, it beckons, it is parti- 
colored with mystery. It is all beyond me, who am 
consigned to the drabness of ruts and routine. So 
Cheever, my boy, give thanks for the light-fingered 
brain which is yours, and not for the plodding kind 
which is mine. Ah, I see, the car comes to the 
door. That means ” 

“That the ruts and the routine can wait for a 
while,” Rhoades returned with a boyishness which 
could not hide a kindling of gratitude towards the 
older man. “I want to tell you just how much I am 
indebted to that machine brain of yours, how it has 
smoothed out many things for me. And I want to say 
it in the car, in the open air, where you cannot watch 
me so closely. For I am not good at that sort of 
thing. I can feel it, but when it comes to passing it 
along, words seem such cold and inexpressive things 


“Now stop right there, my boy,” Merwin inter- 
rupted hastily. “I have been trying to tell you all 
along that you are not indebted to me for a single thing, 
that friendship does not enter here, that I am only one 
cog in a machine, and that if you had picked on some- 
body else to handle it, it might have worked out a 
whole lot better for you.” 

That made Andre Merwin feel better, it was his 
first touch of fire. He was experiencing a sensation 
which was almost a resentment, but it was a sensa- 
tion which vanished with the same flash which brought 
it, so that by the time they reached the car he was 
as self-collected and as alive to events as was ever 
a man who played for high stakes. 


18 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


At the wheel they found a man who might have been 
a brother of Robinson, or who might have been any- 
thing else in the human race, so non-committal was he 
in appearance. He was inconspicuous, that was all 
either Rhoades or Merwin noticed, and it did not 
occur to either to wonder when he drove away in the 
direction of the park without waiting for instructions. 
For a time neither man spoke, then they exchanged 
only the most hackneyed expressions of weather and 
road. The mind of each was filled with his own im- 
mediate future. There was a warm grayness in 
the air and a soporific droning to the motor which 
cast a pleasing spell about them, a silence which 
one of them believed to be the silence of under- 
standing. 

It was not until the machine came to a sliding stop 
at the northern entrance to the park that either man 
guessed remotely that their schedule of events was 
breaking down. It was Merwin, with brain more 
alert than that of his companion to the significance of 
small things, who noted first that there was no traffic 
reason for stopping, that the motor was still purring 
its living cadence. It was Merwin who first noticed 
a man step from the clustering shade of exotic shrub- 
bery, and walk easily towards the car with an attitude 
of perfect understanding. It was not until the man 
calmly slipped the catch of the front tonneau door and 
stepped up to take his place beside the driver, that the 
hiatus in Andre Merwin’s brain was filled with an 
instinctive sense of alarm. Even then he only turned 
to Rhoades with the casual remark, 

“Robinson seems very informal to-day. You let 
him take too many liberties.” 

Just there he stopped, for there was in Cheever 
Rhoades’s eyes a wavering of incomprehension which 
came to Merwin like a dash of icy water. 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


19 


“That is not Robinson,” Rhoades replied, “I don’t 
know who he is.” 

Though seated immediately behind the driver, and 
thus diagonally from their unbidden guest, Merwin 
rose to his feet with some vague idea of thrusting the 
stranger from them, but a sudden jolting of the car, as 
the driver released the clutch into the speeding engine, 
threw him backward to his seat. A moment more, 
and they had slipped into one of the winding driveways 
which lead out to the sea. Yet to one who might ob- 
serve, there was nothing to signal the fact that this 
party was any different from the scores of others 
which passed that way. 

It all happened so unlooked-for, so swiftly, that the 
conflicting flood of emotions which swept the brain of 
Cheever Rhoades left nothing but the commonplace. 
There was a strange man, a brother of Robinson, at 
fhe wheel, and there was a stranger, with no moral or 
ethical rights, on the seat beside him. 

“Stop the car, Robinson,” Rhoades called sharply. 
But the only change in events was an acceleration of 
speed, slight, but perceptibly ominous. It seemed a 
warning as to who held the balance of power. 

Andre Merwin’s lips had grown white and drawn. 
There was something here not satisfying to his artistic 
sense of things; there was something of personal men- 
ace, something which spurred him keenly into action. 
So Merwin leaned forward, and gripped the driver by 
the shoulders as though to pull him from the wheel. 
Then the stranger turned to him a face which was hard 
to read. 

“I wouldn’t do that,” he said, with the crispness of 
command, and he smiled. But even the most radical 
of optimists could have found no friendliness in that 
smile. It was the facial contortion of a determined 
man. 


20 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


“I wouldn’t do that,” the stranger repeated, as he 
turned about in his seat to face Merwin and Rhoades 
with one glance, a glance which seemed that of a 
fanatic. Andre Merwin sank back in his seat, his eyes 
darting here and there in search for some external help. 

“And I wouldn’t try to signal a passing car, nor a 
cop,” the man up in front went on, as though conscious 
of Merwin’s intent. “For I’m a nervous man, and if 
cornered I’m apt to do something rash. I don’t mean 
no bad intent, leastways, not now. So you’d better 
sit back and listen. I shouldn’t of been sent on this 
job, ’cause I’m so nervous. That’s why you can’t see 
my hands. I got a gun in one, and some sort of 
contrivance in the other which, if I took a finger off 
the spring, would blow us all into kingdom come. I’m 
trying to hold onto that finger, but if something should 
happen to upset me, such as a cop gettin’ too near or 
something like that, I don’t want to be responsible for 
what’d come next. 

“That’s better, gentlemen. Sit back comfortable 
and look as though you’re enjoying the drive. We 
don’t want people to think we’re posin’ for the movies. 
Now you didn’t think such a thing could happen, did 
you? We’ve got charge of the car. Robinson here’s 
deaf. Can’t hear a word except when I speak to him. 
Besides, he’s got a gun too. I guess you’re quite 
right. If somebody’d a told you a thing could hap- 
pen like this, in broad daylight, in a fashionable park 
like this, with a motor passing every two or three 
minutes and people sitting round on the benches, you 
wouldn’t a believed it. Don’t know as I blame you, 
but detail’s what counts, gentlemen, and we ain’t over- 
looked anything ” 

“Suppose you tell us what you want, and what you 
are doing in my car, like a graceless thug,” Rhoades 
broke into the monologue, and Merwin noted that 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


21 


though the younger man’s voice gave evidence of ex- 
citement there were no traces of fear. “I’ll admit you 
have the drop on us. A calculating pirate can do that 
to a gentleman any day in the week. All I can do 
now is congratulate you on the novelty of your ideas.” 

“That’s just the point, Mr. Rhoades,” the stranger 
returned coolly enough. “A man like you will appre- 
ciate novelty, and we just had to get you somewhere 
where there wasn’t one chance in a hundred of any- 
body or anything interrupting our little conversation. 
No, the tires ain’t going to burst, for they’re all new 
to-day. That’s our gift to you. And the engine isn’t 
going to stop, for it’s just been overhauled. And 
there’s miles and miles of roadway in this park that we 
can keep circling on, to say nothing of the speedway 
and the ocean boulevard at the end of it, and there 
ain’t nobody going to stop us and you ain’t going to 
stop anybody ” 

“It takes you a long time to get to the point,” Merwin 
snapped, though all the time his shrewd eye was study- 
ing, searching for the probable points of weakness in 
the stranger’s make-up. “We haven’t either one of us 
much money, but if that’s what you want, take it and 
go. Rhoades can drive his own car home, and we’ll 
give you five minutes to get out of sight.” 

“Now that’s talking like a real gentleman. But 
there’s to be no thieving at this party; it’s just an 
educational meeting.” 

“Your language hardly stamps you as an educa- 
tionalist,” Merwin retorted. 

“That’s just where you’re mistaken. For there’s 
education of the brain and education of the spirit, and 
it’s the last kind that you gentlemen need, education of 
principle.” 

“Principles of the high type which we now see you 
putting into practice,” Merwin interjected hastily, 


22 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


reaching out roughly to intercept what seemed to him 
the inevitable unmasking of his chicanery. For Andre 
Merwin did not know the man. And more than that, 
he could not know how much the man might know. So 
his every instinct was alert to stave off the blow to his 
prestige in the eyes of Rhoades. 

“No, not that. Principles which consider the wel- 
fare of the whole human race, and not of individuals,” 
the man returned, strangely enough including Rhoades 
and Merwin in the same estimate. Then abruptly the 
last trace of irresolution was swept from the man’s 
face, to leave it hard and merciless. “No, gentlemen, 
if I was to treat this as a matter between individuals, 
I would shoot you both dead. That would be your 
deserts. But I am not going to do that, not yet. Per- 
haps not at all, if you are reasonable. The point is 
this, you two men are plotting and planning the deaths 
of others, hundreds of others, perhaps thousands, with 
the cold-blooded deviltry of fiends. Why shouldn’t 
you die this minute?” 

Something like a cold, blue flame crept up in the 
man’s eyes, and grew there, as though feasting upon 
the prospects of death. That gaze was so intent and 
virulent that Merwin’s fingers stiffened and gripped the 
frame of the car where they had rested. Cheever 
Rhoades made a movement as though to spring upon 
the man, but — a quick little jerk of the stranger’s hand 
— and Rhoades saw the folly of violence. A black 
muzzle was resting across the back of the seat, almost 
hidden beneath the hollow of his shoulder, and on a 
level with Rhoades’ heart. 

For a time there was nothing to be heard but the 
droning of the motor, the swish of the wheels, and a 
cheerless little soughing of the sea-breeze among the 
eucalyptus. Then Rhoades’ lips parted in a mirthless 
laugh. 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


23 


“The gun’s loaded, and it has a silencer,” the unbid- 
den guest added grimly. “Don’t tempt me again, for 
I am weak.” 

“I know what he means now, Merwin,” Rhoades 
laughed again, rather harshly. “He is referring 
to ” 

“A fiendish contrivance to deal out death, which you, 
in the name of science, were about to call a great inven- 
tion. Men, look on me. I am only one of a powerful 
clique sworn to a purpose. If you got me, though you 
can’t, there would be others rise up in my place. This 
man Rhoades, by his invention, has advanced the 
science of death, grim enough before. He has made 
himself a curse to humanity, so we have marked him 
out. As for you, Merwin, you are the arch-fiend 
urging him on. You too are the enemy of humanity 
and all rightful human motives, so we have marked 
you out. The one makes the weapon. The other 
buys it, to hurl it to spread death. You are equally 
guilty. But we are merciful. We do not ask your 
death ” 

“Who do you mean by ‘we’?” Rhoades demanded. 

“We? Why, the friends of humanity, the world 
over. The Unknown Quantity. A society organized 
for 

Just there he stopped, as the car swerved around a 
cluster of foliage drooping from its exotic fervor, and 
straightened out on the driveway which ran plumb 
to the sea. At the western gateway a mounted officer 
was posted, watching the traffic listlessly, and at the 
sight of the man in uniform Andre Merwin’s eyes 
kindled. But the unknown did not overlook that be- 
traying flash of intent, so that a little withered grin 
came to his lips, as he added : 

“Well, if you are ready for death, so am I. See, I’ve 
put the automatic out of sight, but the other hand is 


24 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


getting nervous again. No, I shouldn’t have been sent 
on this job. Now, if either of you gentlemen should 
happen to shout, or wave, or do anything out of the 
ordinary ” 

“Don’t be a fool,” Rhoades interrupted. “Do you 
suppose we are going to do anything until we have 
heard you through to the end? As for me, I was 
getting too much interested to have you break things 
off in the center. We’re a quiet little motor party just 
as long as you want us to be.” 

“Now, that’s sensible, isn’t it?” the stranger appealed 
to Merwin, as the latter sank back in his seat to stare 
at the gray-uniformed figure with a telepathic con- 
centration which should have produced results. But 
the officer was dreaming, far out to sea, so that in a 
moment the car had swished past the safety zone and 
swung to the south where the ocean boulevard stretched 
for miles before the eye, and where, though still early 
afternoon, the first spindrift was already stealing in 
from the sea. Soon, Andre Merwin knew, that spin- 
drift would grow thicker, would blot out whole strips of 
the sky and the land, so that shortly they would be by 
themselves, traveling in a little gray-misted world of 
their own. He crouched still farther back in his seat, 
with a sigh of surrender. 

“You were at a very interesting point a moment 
ago,” Rhoades reminded their captor. “You were 
about to tell us the aims of the society, your Unknown 
Quantity.” 

“Yes, the great good friend of humanity, whose creed 
is not your creed, which believes in the death of one 
or two that hundreds may live, which will kill the few, 
ruthlessly, with the flip of a finger, to spare the thou- 
sands the turmoil and travail which you would bring 
upon them by your devilish scheming. We are strong. 
We have millions back of us. We are known as the 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


25 


Society for the Forestalling of War, but for the sake 
of brevity we simply call ourselves the Unknown Quan- 
tity, and that is how you will know of us and hear from 
us in the future, that is, if you live to hear. I tell 
you this in all fairness, for we are merciful. We are 
not cruel like you, we give every man his one chance, 
and then — but why anticipate, for I can see that you 
are reasonable men.” 

“But why attack us? Why don’t you get at the 
root of things?” Rhoades demanded. 

“The root is too big, too deep, to attack at first. 
Existing conditions, the greedy hearts and souls of 
fiends and charlatans we cannot change overnight. But 
we can reach the outer branches of the thing, and lop 
them off as they grow. You are an evil branch grow- 
ing out from an evil tree, exuding the threat of death 
as you go, like a pestilence. We cannot destroy the 
tree, not yet, but when we have lopped off the new 
shoots, one by one, then in time we will grow strong 
enough to break the tree itself.” 

“You speak as though you had already experienced 
some success,” Rhoades suggested. 

“To be definite, we have, and I will tell you of 
one. Do you remember, last year, that most cruel 
instrument of destruction devised by Professor Mar- 
chesi of Rome? The Roentgen ray perfection, capable 
of firing explosives at fifteen miles radius. You re- 
member how Marchesi was holding that out to the 
highest bidding nation. An admirable instrument of 
war, remarkable for its powers of destruction. Could 
be set up as a land defense and slaughter battleships 
like insects. Not that we cared for the ships. Let 
them go. It was the human lives we counted. Then 
you remember how Marchesi sank from sight and the 
world forgot him, his hell-instrument with him. Well, 
we made to Marchesi such an offer as we will make to 


26 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


you to-day. He saw the folly of his ways. He is one 
of us to-day, and his instrument with him, for our 
protection or your destruction, as fate may decide.” 

“You’re rambling like a man without wits,” Andre 
Merwin interrupted testily. “You spoke of an offer. 
Then make it, without all this brag. I suppose you 
want our machine the way you got Marchesi’s, or the 
way you say you got it, or you want us to go in with 
you the way you got him ?” 

“What a discerning mind! We want the machine, 
but we do not want you,” the stranger returned. “The 
only offer I am empowered to make is to Mr. Rhoades. 
He is on the point of selling his submarine, a fiendish 
thing, by the way, and the plans, for a certain figure. 
We know the amount, as we know other things. We 
are prepared to make Mr. Rhoades a cash offer for the 
submarine and the plans, the exact amount he is to re- 
ceive from Mr. Merwin, the selling agent, and to Mr. 
Merwin we will allow a ten per cent, commission on the 
sale. You are given until eight o’clock to-night to 
decide whether or not you accept.” 

For a time there was silence, through which came the 
idle pounding of the surf upon the sands, and through 
which could be heard the clicking of Andre Merwin’s 
lips. It was Cheever Rhoades who broke the silence. 

“And if we refused?” he asked quietly. 

“You would hear from us again, an ultimatum, with 
the offer withdrawn.” 

“And if we accepted?” 

“The money would be paid at once.” 

“I mean, what is to prevent me accepting your 
money, then turning around and building another 
machine just like it, perhaps better, or, as you might 
say, deadlier?” 

“Then you would bear the brand of the traitor, and 
you would surely die.” 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


27 


“Seems very positive and definite about it, Merwin,” 
Rhoades suggested, with a nervous laugh. 

“And what is worse, the blasted idiot is probably 
speaking the truth,” his companion returned. “There 
was talk of some such thing as this a year ago when 
Marchesi broke off his negotiations, but no one quite 
believed it.” 

Then suddenly Cheever Rhoades straightened in his 
seat and fixed the unwelcome guest with a glare, as he 
demanded : 

“What if you are nothing but scoundrels, after all, 
and not fanatics? What if this is only a plot to turn 
the submarine and the plans over to some other pur- 
chaser, some foreign government, perhaps, at a huge 
profit? If that is the case, you have my answer now — 
I’ll fight you to the last minute.” 

“Admirable,” their captor applauded, not entirely 
without admiration. “With a courage like yours and 
a brain like yours, directed in the right way towards 
the betterment of humanity and not its destruction, the 
world would be a brighter spot. But you have my 
assurance that no such thing is intended. Your ma- 
chine, as it stands now, is an engine of torture. It 
can serve no possible good. So to us it is nothing but 
a foul reptile, and all foulness we destroy. If you 
can make it utilitarian and commercial, you will be given 
a chance to work under our direction. If not, you can 
stand and watch the plans burned before your own eyes, 
and you can see the machine blown to the bottom of the 
sea. That is our offer.” 

There was no mockery or triumph upon the face of 
the man before them, and Rhoades almost fancied that 
he caught in the stranger’s voice a smack of sincerity. 
He glanced towards Andre Merwin, and strangely 
enough Merwin had grown calm and passive. It almost 
seemed as though his thoughts were far away, that he 


28 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


had left Rhoades alone with his problem, for when the 
latter bent upon him a quizzical glance he remained 
detached and unresponsive. 

“You said something about giving me until eight to- 
night,” Rhoades turned again to the man whom he 
was already learning to regard as a visionary. “Better 
bring this thing to an end. The fog is deepening and 
we’re getting a long distance from the city.” 

“To prove to you that we are always fair. That 
leaves you some hours in which to decide.” 

“How are you going to know my answer? You 
don’t think you are going to stay with us that long and 
then make a getaway, do you ?” 

“Were we to remain with you, it would be unfair. 
Your thoughts would be biased. You can communicate 
with us in a simple manner. If you find that your 
mind is free to negotiate, that you are ready to accept 
the offer, then leave your front doorway at eight to- 
night, eight sharp, walk from there to the street, light 
a cigarette and remain for one minute on the sidewalk, 
smoking. You yourself, remember, for no one else will 
do. If you refuse the offer, do anything you please 
but what I have mentioned. You are quite free to 
try to catch our emissary.” 

Through the silence which followed they heard again 
the lazy pounding of the sea, which seemed far-off and 
indifferent to the complex passions of mankind, then 
from out in front, beyond this little gray-mist world of 
theirs, came the distant thrumming of a motor, purring 
with power. Without signal or warning, their own 
car came to a stop, and the man who might have 
been a brother of Robinson bent over and shut off the 
engine. 

“We must leave you now, pleasant as it has been,” 
said the stranger as he blew three short, sharp blasts 
on the siren. “And it would be healthier for you 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


29 


gentlemen to remain seated where you are, for a minute 
or so.” 

With that, both men climbed down from the car, 
stretched their limbs lazily, but Rhoades noticed that 
the eyes of the strangers never left them. For a mo- 
ment he wondered how they were to effect their escape. 
Would they be foolhardy enough to try the sand dunes 
behind them? But even while he wondered, there 
came the answer. The motor which had droned out 
in front slipped up and stopped beside them, or rather 
it paused for the fraction of a minute. As it did so, 
the strange man who had brought them his message 
whipped out a knife and buried it in the front tire of 
Rhoades’s car, then leaped for the running-board of 
the other, which was already in motion. 

“Sorry to do it,” he flung back with a grin, “but 
really it’s our own tire. You’ll find another on behind.” 

Then with a staccato barking, the big gray monster 
slid into the mist, and the answer which echoed back 
from its exhaust was like the laughter of triumph. 

“A racer,” said Andre Merwin briskly, as he jumped 
to the ground to peer vainly in the direction in which 
the car had vanished, “and without a number. A stock 
car at that, stock body, rather, with a racing engine. 
That’s something to go by. And a single driver, but 
that doesn’t help. Any chance of catching them ?” 

“Not the slightest,” Rhoades returned. “I wouldn’t 
speed through this mist for worlds. Besides, there’s a 
tire to change. Perhaps we’ll find them piled up some- 
where by the roadside. We’re alive anyway, Merwin, 
and that’s some relief.” 

“And they’re most mighty clever, artistic, didn’t 
overlook a single point,” Merwin returned quite cheer- 
fully, as though somewhere, somehow, he found a relish 
in it all. “Well, let’s switch that tire and get back to 
town. There’s a new zest in life.” 


30 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


For through the brief interval allowed him for ra- 
tional reasoning, Andre Merwin had decided that for 
a time at least his attitude must be altruistic. Rhoades 
donned a duster and set to work leisurely, and Merwin, 
after attempting to help and finding his activities of the 
clownish variety which anticipate a duty after it is 
done, gave it up to amble about the car. There he made 
a discovery. 

“They’ve cut the numbers off all the tires,” he an- 
nounced, “Shrewd beggars, that. Must have both 
money and brains. Don’t mind giving you a complete 
set of new tires, but don’t take a chance of being traced 
that way. Took the knife away with him too, and 
didn’t even leave cigarette ashes behind. So far as 
this end of it goes, Cheever, we haven’t a thing to go 
by. Might just as well be locked up in a dark room. 
What do you think of it?” 

“I think it’s most mighty serious,” Rhoades returned 
in the midst of his exertions. “I think we’re up 
against a pack of bloodhounds who mean business. 
Well, that’s done.” 

And with a final kick to adjust the tire, Rhoades 
began cleaning up the litter of tools. A moment later, 
and the car had been turned and they were following 
the course taken by the envoy of the Unknown Quan- 
tity ; but with a full ten minutes lost, a fog and a slower 
car, Cheever Rhoades realized the folly of attempting 
to overtake or trace them. 

“We’ll just have to wait until we hear from them 
again,” he observed, as he set off for the city at a fair 
pace. Following this was much animated and dis- 
jointed conversation and observation, which only con- 
vinced them the more that their enemy, whoever or 
whatever he or they might be, was powerful, deter- 
mined, and resourceful, and doubtless implacable. 
Through the tangle of it all there glimmered the one 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


31 


possible hope, and that was — Robinson. Unless Robin- 
son, in spite of all his faithful service, was secretly a 
member of the organization, he should be able to tell 
how and when they got possession of Rhoades’ car. 
He might even hold the key to the riddle. 

As for the nervous stranger himself, who carried 
bombs with such levity, even Andre Merwin, shrewdly 
speculative and observant as he had been, had little 
hope of identifying him should they meet face to face 
again. 

“For it was quite plain to me that the man’s whole 
get-up was doctored for the occasion,” he observed 
when the analysis reached that point, and who could 
know better than Andre Merwin the value of such 
forethought. “I tried to get past the costume and 
figure out what sort of man he must be, but you must 
admit, Cheever, that I am to be pardoned if I failed 
to concentrate on such an occasion.” 

“The point never occurred to me,” his companion re- 
turned, with a tone of admiration. 

“It was plain that his eyebrows were too bushy to be 
his own,” Merwin speculated in a sort of appreciative 
manner. “Just a trifle too bushy, and rather well 
done, I should say. Though that little thing might 
make a wonderful difference in his appearance. The 
mustache was his own, but that could come off entirely. 
That would make him younger. But then, fewer 
cosmetics might make him older. He was dressed like 
a fairly corpulent middle-aged man, but his face didn’t 
live up to that. It was too keen. If he only hadn’t 
worn gloves. You can often tell by the hands. When 
he was made up for middle-age, you can be fairly sure 
he was something else, probably a fairly slim young 
man of twenty-five or thirty. The only thing we’re 
sure of is his height, five-foot-eight, I should judge.” 

“You’re not so bad on detail yourself, for a man 


32 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


whose brain is the plodding variety,” Rhoades observed 
casually. 

■"It's the profession teaches one,” Merwin returned 
with a slight start, which quite escaped his companion, 
who at that moment suddenly found his full attention 
occupied by the traffic at the ocean entrance to the park- 
way. “And you may be sure he had full confidence in 
his costuming or he would never have made such a 
public appearance.” 

“How about the chauffeur, the brother of Robin- 
son?” Rhoades suggested. 

Andre Merwin sighed, sincerely. 

“Doubtless higher up in the thing than the man who 
talked, for he was more effectively disguised. Motor 
cap, goggles, crouching low in his seat, duster turned 
high about his neck. I hardly got a glimpse of his 
face, might have been the Mayor’s secretary or a police 
commissioner for all I know. No, we’ll just have to 
wait.” 

And with that, the conversation trailed off into 
aimless speculations which reached nowhere, until, by 
the time they touched the city, both men were silent. 
For the rest of the distance, Rhoades drove nervously, 
hurrying towards the end, and when he reached the 
neat old-fashioned home on Stanford Heights he swung 
the car directly for the garage. The place was locked, 
from the outside, with the key hanging on a nail by the 
door, which in itself was sufficiently unusual to be 
alarming. Hitherto, Robinson had always carried the 
key through the day, leaving it at the house at night. 

“Looks as though he’d cleared out,” Merwin ob- 
served, as he noted the spasm of anger which showed 
suddenly upon his companion’s face. 

But without answering, Rhoades unlocked and threw 
open the doorway. Everything was in order, as it 
should be. Even the old tires which had been stripped 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


33 


from the car were lying in a neat pile in one corner. 
With a quick glance around, Rhoades crossed the room 
and began climbing the stairs to an attic above, where 
Robinson had fitted up a den. Merwin followed. 
Even before the men reached the top of the stairway 
they became acutely conscious of the sickening odor of 
narcotics. Rhoades took the last steps at a bound, then 
paused, staring at the scene before him. On a couch, 
with hands and feet bound, and with face swathed in 
bandages, was Robinson, motionless. 

A few minutes in the open air, with the application 
of water and the chafing of hands, revived him, so that 
the chauffeur sat up dazedly, weak from nausea. Yet 
Robinson could tell them little. What little he knew 
had happened in the forenoon while he was stooping 
over a refractory tire. There had been a cloth thrown 
over his face, and violence, two men he thought, then 
darkness. Now this great sickness. But he had seen 
no one. 

Andre Merwin, studying his companion, saw the first 
flicker of fear upon the face of Cheever Rhoades as 
they walked quietly back to the house, but he did not 
offer consolation or further companionship. For 
through Merwin’s brain there were flashing the first 
elusive gems of a great idea. 

“I will be back, shortly before eight, to see you 
through, if you wish it,” he suggested as he turned 
towards the street. 

“Do,” said Cheever Rhoades succinctly, as he reached 
out and grasped the other’s hand, “for I think I am 
going to need friends now.” 

Merwin did not even wince as he turned away. 


Ill 


Once beyond sight of the Rhoades household, Andre 
Merwin no longer made any attempt to conceal the 
fact that he had urgent business somewhere. It was 
characteristic of his own tutelage and instinct for de- 
tails that he should dash into the first corner drug store, 
communicate with a number which for some reason or 
other one could never have found in the ’phone direc- 
tory, and thus, by a few brief words, set at work an 
intricate network of wires which must in time lead to 
Matt Croucher. 

As a matter of fact, all he did was to whisper: 

“That you, Kingway? Scour the city for Croucher 
and have him at my office in the least possible time. 
It’s urgent.” 

Then, apparently confident in the system at his beck 
and call, Merwin sauntered forth much more leisurely 
than he had entered, hailed a taxi, gave the address of 
Merwin, Langton & Pendick on Market Street, then 
settled back to gather into some comprehensive form 
those new sparkling gems in his brain. Yes, the idea 
was a capital one, and doubtless workable. But Matt 
Croucher could tell him that. An admirable man, that 
Croucher, a little too impulsive, but nevertheless a 
decided asset. As for Cheever Rhoades, it was quite 
too bad, but he was fated to lose in the end anyway. 
A decent chap, but rather stupid in many ways. Be- 
sides, the odds were strongly against him. Well, with 
Rhoades bound to lose, the only question left open was 
34 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


35 


the winner, which organization should prove itself 
the stronger, or should he say subtler ? 

Andre Merwin recalled his regrets of a few hours 
ago, that the game was almost played to its finish, and 
a little thrill ran up his spine, quite pleasurable, for 
this swift crisis would tax the craft of his brain, per- 
haps to the utmost. And he was very well satisfied 
with the plan which was already thrusting itself through 
the emergency. That is, if Croucher approved. 

So, when he entered his private office, it was with a 
briskness quite befitting the head of a firm such as 
Merwin, Langton & Pendick, and he was not at all 
surprised to find Matt Croucher awaiting him. 

“Well, Matt, it’s happened,” he announced,, cheer- 
fully enough. 

Whereupon, the big fellow, quite overlooking the 
disillusionment back of his mentor’s eyes, yawned, ex- 
tended his huge limbs into the air, and pronounced that 
he was “dashed well glad of it.” 

“Now that’s awfully decent of you, Matt,” Andre 
Merwin reflected, “I didn’t expect you to take it that 
way.” 

With that, Matt Croucher shook off his sloth, he 
peered past Merwin’s inconsequential manner and he 
found there a frigid force back of the cheer. His 
poised arms dropped like sledgehammers, and he de- 
manded with some alarm : 

“What’s happened, Merwin? You don’t mean to 


“Yes, I do,” Merwin anticipated the question. “The 
unforeseen improbability has occurred.” 

Matt Croucher’s eyes went suddenly baleful, with- 
out waiting to hear the end. After which there was 
a bad time of it, through which Croucher’s impetu- 
osity was plainly visible. It was a scene interlarded 
with no uncertain invective and recrimination, through 


36 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


which Andre Merwin sat phlegmatically impervious, 
mentally withdrawn, toying with his fingers con- 
templatively until his companion had quite exhausted 
his spleen. When all the fits and gusts of Croucher’s 
anger had blown themselves out, and the man was still 
staring like one whom fortune had just flicked in the 
face, Merwin came back to the world of reality. 

“There may be some truth in what you say, Matt,” 
he admitted, “but the point is we have a rival, a formid- 
able one, it would seem. When you are in fit condi- 
tion to listen sanely, I will tell you the whole thing.” 

Merwin paused significantly, and as his associate 
nodded proof of his sanity, the arch-conspirator went 
into the matter in detail, taking a full half-hour to out- 
line the occurrences of the afternoon. He was taking 
ample time to allow Matt Croucher’s brain to blow 
clean of its anger, knowing full well that such was 
better than placing fresh oil on machinery. At the 
end, he saw battle, and not anger, in the older man’s 
face, which pleased him greatly. 

“And you must have some plan already,” Croucher 
reflected calmly, after a pause, “or you wouldn’t have 
come back so all-fired cheerful. That’s what took me 
off my guard.” 

“You should observe detail more carefully, Matt. 
Yes, I have a plan ” 

But at this moment he was interrupted by the buzzing 
of the ’phone, a private one where no prying ears might 
hear. 

“Yes, it’s all right, Benson,” Croucher heard him say, 
“Rhoades is sending two wires, you say. . . . One to 
the Department of State? . . . Read it. . . . Wants 
their advice. . . . Let me think a moment. . . . Yes, 
Benson, you have it. . . . He must have told you the 
whole doings. . . . Lots of confidence in you all right. 

. . . Yes, wire him back from the Department telling 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


37 


him to get in touch with me. Say the Secretary is 
wiring me to put the secret service on the case, and in 
the meantime to sit tight. . . . Yes, I must remain the 
accredited agent at all cost. Remember, it’s nine 
o’clock at Washington now, so don’t let the wire come 
back until midnight. . . . The other’s to Inwood ? . . . 
That’s quite right, send it. The flyer just went out a 
couple of hours ago, you should catch him around San 
Juan. . . . That’s right. Bring him back. We don’t 
need his brains, but we may need his money.” 

“Bright boy, Benson,” Merwin commended. 

“Yes, but your plan ?” Croucher pressed. “From the 
way you talk to Benson, you seem to be taking it for 
granted that Rhoades won’t accept their offer.” 

“Can we afford to let Rhoades smoke that cigarette 
at eight to-night?” Merwin inquired speculatively. 
“They, whoever they are, might step right in, take 
charge and close everything up in a few hours. Then 
where would we be? A bare ten per cent. Just a 
fraction of what we’re counting on. No, their armor 
may seem like a coat of mail, but perhaps it’s only 
egg-shell. No, Matt, we don’t go down until we’ve 
at least sparred for the weak points. We’re not going 
to be called by a bluff. There’s a little fight in us yet. 
Listen, Matt . . . we want at least one night.” 

Some latent significance back of the words caused 
the big man to sit sharply erect, to peer into Andre 
Merwin’s eyes with his old pose of the seaman who 
seeks to pierce the fogs about him. 

“You mean it, Andre?” he blurted out at last, with 
a strange whining intensity in his tones. “You mean 
that I’m to get some action at last?” 

“And why not? Rhoades is booked to lose in the 
end. We keep him from doing business with them to- 
night — never mind how, leave that to me. Then they’re 
sure to try for the plans, somehow, soon. They 


38 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


spoke of an ultimatum. Then why not take them 
ourselves, at the same time we shift our sins upon 
their shoulders? With that clique in the field, not 
knowing their power, we can be sure of nothing, unless 
we strike at once. Then why not forestall them, take 
the plans to-night? Without the sub itself, it’s but a 
half victory, but a half victory is worth a million, not 
having to pay Rhoades anything, for Ling Yong Po 
will ask no questions. With the plans safely in our 
hands, we can join in the hue and cry of the oppressed.” 

“And sit tight, as before?” 

“And sit tight, waiting for a chance to carry through 
the deal on the sub itself. Matt, if you but flavor your 
eagerness with discretion, we can get those plans to- 
night, and it can be worked so carefully that the whole 
suspicion will be leveled at the Unknown Quantity. 
We can stay around to direct it there ” 

Matt Croucher lumbered to his feet gracelessly, and 
he wandered about the room for a minute or more, 
looking at things restlessly, as though the repressed 
power within him must have some outlet. At last he 
paused before his companion, bent over him, and the 
rumble of his whisper was like the echoes of the sea- 
shore. 

“You’re a bird, Andre,” he pronounced admiringly. 
“You’re just a bird, there’s all there’s to it.” 

Andre Merwin, having studied well his school of 
humanity, allowed his appreciation to show in his eyes 
for a moment, then he drew a chair close and motioned 
Croucher to it. 

After which, the two conspirators went into caucus 
for an hour or more, at the end of which even the 
elementary student of human nature could have seen 
that Matt Croucher was very well content with what 
the world and the future had to offer. The tokens of 
irritating repression were all washed away, and into 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


39 


their place had come the joy of activity. Whatever 
the work at hand, Matt Croucher was accepting it with 
an enthusiasm so eager and youthful that even his 
more staid companion could not but catch some of his 
spirit of lightness. 

“Rufus Nallfar is the boy for the job, ,, the pseudo- 
sea-captain pronounced, as he rose to his feet to indicate 
that he must be upon his way. “I’d prefer Kingway, 
but Rhoades has already seen him, under disguise, and 
there’s no use taking chances. Well, duty calls ” 

“Another thing, Matt. Can you spare three or 
four men to scatter around in the neighborhood of 
Rhoades’s house at eight? Some of them might get a 
line on our rivals when one of their bunch watch for 
Rhoades’s signal. Keep your men out of sight, for it’s 
only a chance.” 

“A dozen if you like,” Croucher agreed, as he gave 
further evidence of his eagerness to be away. 

“I’ll be at Rhoades’ shortly before eight. Better 
drop around yourself, to lend color to our great per- 
sonal interest in his — his hour of trial,” Merwin con- 
cluded, as he laughed softly. 

“You’re a devil, and I like you for it,” Croucher 
burst out impulsively. “Sure. I’ll be there. It’ll make 
him feel good to know my protecting arm is about 
him.” 

Something reconditely humorous in the remark ap- 
pealed to the conspirators, for both men laughed in a 
sort of high-pitched way, which was not natural, but 
which savored of exultation. 

“He’ll put it over,” Merwin was chuckling to him- 
self, as this self-made product of the sea left hurriedly. 


IV 


In addition to his other gifts, or perhaps they were 
acquisitions, Andre Merwin seemed to possess the 
art of awaiting a crisis with perfect calm. So that 
after the departure of Croucher, so hasty as to augur 
well for the enthusiasm he would put into his work, 
Merwin toyed about the room aimlessly like one 
who has some lingering flavor of content. There could 
be no doubt that he was well pleased with what he and 
Matt Croucher had done to the future. 

Some time later, in his typical business way, he dined 
at a popular restaurant, glanced carelessly over an 
evening paper, as all good citizens should, and on the 
whole showed a quite proper degree of indifference to 
and interest in the rest of mankind. He dropped into 
a really proper club, gossiped for a few minutes, then 
sauntered forth again, his face quite as guileless as at 
any moment since the days of his extreme childhood, 
so that, were any of the emissaries of the Un- 
known Quantity dogging his steps, as he fully believed 
them to be, they must have thanked him for the ease of 
the task set them. But through all his massive calm, 
Andre Merwin got a fright which really left him cold 
at heart. It was a detail overlooked. In the haste 
of extemporaneous plotting he had quite overlooked the 
possibility of Matt Croucher being shadowed. He 
should warn Croucher, but he dare not trust his mes- 
sage to the public ’phone, and there was no time to 
return to the office on Market Street if he was to be 
40 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


41 


at the big house on the Heights at the most interesting 
hour of its history. Well, he must trust to Croucher, 
and Croucher, though impetuous, was not a fool. Be- 
sides, he rather fancied that any work Croucher had 
to do to-night would stand some tracking. 

So it was with a countenance smoothed of everything 
but fraternal fears that Andre Merwin finally arrived 
at the handsome home on Stanford Heights, where he 
found Cheever Rhoades more than glad to welcome 
him. It was very apparent that the younger man had 
lost some of his calm, that he was nervously alert as 
he met Merwin outside the doorway and plunged di- 
rectly into his problem. 

“I’m delighted to see you early/’ Rhoades began at 
once. “If you had waited until the last minute, with 
your usual preciseness, I hardly know what I would 
have done. You see, I haven’t quite made up my 
mind yet.” 

“No?” Merwin sympathized. “I’m sorry, my dear 
fellow, but that is your problem. Personally, I can- 
not let my feelings enter the case at all, for if I did 
I would be apt to counsel the acceptance of the offer. 
Ten per cent, you know, is a rather tempting bait to 
hold out to a man of my moderate means who has been 
accustomed only to legal retainers. Besides, to accept 
the offer would be so simple a way out, to a man of 
my disposition who does not like conflict or struggle. 
Really, Rhoades, I shrink from being involved in what 
may happen if we do not accept their offer. It may 
mean a battle and all kinds of trouble, when there is 
nothing pleases me more than peace and simplicity. 
So you see why I, personally, must not be con- 
sulted ” 

“That is just my trouble,” Rhoades broke in. 
“Neither must I consider myself. To accept seems 
the easiest way out. I lose nothing ” 


42 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


“Nothing,” Andre Merwin returned simply, yet with 
such unusual inflection that Cheever Rhoades flushed 
with anger. 

“Let me finish,” he returned brusquely. “When I 
said nothing, I meant it in a financial sense. The offer 
of the Unknown Quantity is the same as the bid you 
are making for the Department of State. Yet when 
I say I lose nothing, I mean I lose everything. I 
lose my whole pride of creation. I lose — well — you 
know what I lose, for you know why I created.” 

“Yes, Cheever, my dear boy, I know just what you 
lose,” Merwin spoke as might a father to a son whose 
burdens he cannot carry. “And when I see you putting 
this great ethical something before mere money it makes 
me proud of you, it makes me wish for your youth, it 
makes me ” 

“I lose the whole pride of creation,” Rhoades inter- 
rupted as though he had not heard. “Who am I, to 
consider my mere ease and comfort, to look for the 
easiest way out, when — well, you know, Merwin, we 
are on the brink of war. You know what just such 
a submarine as this might mean to us, to that great 
ethical something, as you call it, which seems to rise up 
and crush everything else out of our hearts, to drive 
out the love of ease and the pride of money, to minimize 
even the prize of life itself.” 

“Yes, I know all that,” the older man insinuated 
softly, “I know what you mean. I understand your 
words. But look, Cheever, have you thought how 
you, and you alone, may have to bear all the burden, 
the struggle, the turmoil, the loss of wealth, perhaps of 
life itself, if you do not accept this offer? You know 
their message — if you do not accept, the offer will be 
withdrawn and in its place will come an ultimatum. 
Have you read into that its full meaning? It means 
the beginning of battle, battle for your country, if you 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


13 


wish to call it so, it may mean defeat, death. At the 
very least, it must mean turmoil and strife.” 

“My God, Merwin, how plain you put it,” Cheever 
Rhoades broke in. “And if I accept the offer, what 
does it mean ?” 

“Well,” Andre Merwin spoke slowly, softly, yet with 
deliberate intent, “it means wealth. It means ease and 
comfort for the rest of your days. That is what it 
means to you, you alone, you of the flesh and blood. 
What it means to you of the heart and soul, I cannot 
say.” 

“I know what you are thinking, Andre Merwin,” 
Rhoades replied as one whose mind is groping through 
a mist, “you are thinking of my words of a moment 
ago, that we are on the brink of war.” 

“And if I am?” Merwin interrupted belligerently. 
“Isn't it you we are considering, and not the world?” 

“And if we should pass over that brink,” Rhoades 
went on, unheeding, “you are thinking of what it might 
mean, in the end, should I choose the easiest way, 
should I choose ease instead of struggle, should I 
choose wealth instead of possible poverty, and death. 
You are thinking that it might mean ” 

As the younger man paused for a moment, there were 
the flames of an unquenchable zeal in his eyes, a flame 
before which the older man winced before playing out 
his role. 

“And if I am?” Merwin demanded at length, with 
a fair show of obstinacy. 

“You are thinking that it might mean — defeat, to 
something which I should prize a thousand times more 
than ease or wealth. Is that not it, Andre Merwin?” 

Andre Merwin would not answer. Instead, he 
turned his eyes away and it was with a feeling of real 
relief that he saw Matt Croucher coming up the walk 
towards them. He watched Matt Croucher, counting 


44 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


his footsteps as he came, and it was only when the lum- 
bering seaman was some ten paces from them that he 
heard the voice of Cheever Rhoades behind him. 

“I have decided,” was all the younger man said, and 
Merwin swung about to grip his hand, without asking 
to know the decision. For Andre Merwin knew that 
he had played right and won again. 

“Well, I’m thinking we’ll be able to put up a 
fairly respectable fight for it,” Merwin was saying as 
Croucher joined them. “You see, I took the liberty of 
telling Croucher, knowing what would be your deci- 
sion, and feeling that we might need him to-night.” 

“You are always thoughtful,” Rhoades returned, with 
a real display of gratitude. “It is quite comforting to 
feel that a man of Mr. Croucher’s size is on one’s side. 
But it is within a few minutes of eight. Isn’t there 
something we can do in the meantime to be ready for 
their messenger when he comes.” 

“I doubt if there is anything more than Matt has 
already done,” Merwin returned. “We are doubtless 
under observation at this very moment, so we may as 
well appear as natural as we can. Were you able to 
place any guards, Matt?” 

“Dug up a few of my old water-rat friends,” 
Croucher rumbled. “Must be a dozen at least, posted 
in all the lanes and alleys for two blocks around. And 
they’ll be enough men at both corners to trail any per- 
son who walks or rides past here at eight o’clock, no 
matter which way he goes, unless it’s in the air, and I 
guess they ain’t no fear of that. We’re pretty fair 
fixed for them, Andre.” 

“Perhaps,” Merwin conceded, “but they’ve chosen 
their time well. In ten minutes it will be growing dusk, 
just a little confusing. Besides, while standing here, I 
have counted fourteen houses, from the cellars, or 
garrets or front parlors of any one of which a nurse- 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


45 


maid, a domestic, a chauffeur, or a furnace tender, or 
any other sort of man or woman could command a 
thorough view of Rhoades’ front walk and could 
tell whether or not he stands there for a minute to-night 
smoking a cigarette. Matt, I don’t think we are going 
to learn anything to-night. But you seem to be wanted, 
Cheever.” 

The latter remark was occasioned by the appearance 
of a Chinese servant, whose face was typically in- 
scrutable, and who announced that Rhoades was 
wanted at the ’phone. The moment the man’s back, 
and that of their host, was turned, Andre Merwin and 
Matt Croucher exchanged glances full of meaning, 
glances through which each seemed to read the mind of 
the other. At last the big man nodded. 

‘T guess you’re right, Andre,” Croucher agreed to 
some unspoken message. “I thought I detected some- 
thing. It might be worth trying, anyway.” 

He paused just there, for they could hear Rhoades 
returning. 

“Your new friends,” Merwin suggested, with an at- 
tempt at lightness, when their host appeared. 

“You’re quite right,” Rhoades returned, somewhat 
excited, “and a woman’s voice at that. Warned me for 
my own safety not to try any tricks, not to give the sign 
unless I meant it. Said that treachery would mean the 
death warrant of us all, to say nothing of the destruc- 
tion of the sub. Then rang off. Mighty impertinent, 
it strikes me.” 

“Did you ask central for the number she rang 
from?” Merwin demanded instantly. 

“I didn’t think of that,” Rhoades confessed, some- 
what perturbed, whereupon Merwin made a quick dash 
for the instrument, only to return a moment later with 
the rueful announcement that several calls had come 
in since and central could not remember which was 


46 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


which. Their one suggestion of a clue had been lost 
almost before it was found. 

“Well, we’re within three minutes of eight,” 
Croucher reminded his companions. “I see there’s a 
bit of shrubbery at either corner of your lawn, close 
to the street walk. What I suggest is that I hide 
behind one, and Andre, you and Mr. Rhoades hide 
behind the other, and if anybody, be he man, woman 
or child, passes here at eight sharp, we go out and cor- 
ner him. If we win, we win, and if we make a mis- 
take, there’s lots of room to explain.” 

“Impetuous, as usual,” Merwin cajoled him. “Even 
if you caught the right man, he’d talk about as much as 
a dead nigger. No, Matt, we’ll trust to your shadows 
at the corner, but for our own satisfaction I don’t mind 
taking to the bushes.” 

With that, Andre Merwin set the example, and a 
moment later the three men were hidden in the shrub- 
bery from where they could command a complete view 
of the roadway from either direction. With the excep- 
tion of a few children playing up the street, the road- 
way was devoid of all traffic, foot or vehicle. The first 
tint of dusk was settling down about them, and the 
warm wave of breeze from the land filled the city with 
languor. The conglomerate noise of humanity floated 
to them like echoes from afar off, lulling, as though 
seeking to drive from their minds all thought of strife. 
As Cheever Rhoades stood there, hiding in his own 
shrubbery, spying upon someone unknown who must 
be spying upon him, there seemed to him an absurd 
unreality about it all. It hardly seemed possible to 
him that in this age and generation such an experience 
could be anything more than a figment of fancy, that 
it was anything more than a disturbing dream from 
which he would shortly waken. It must be a dream, 
just a little more vivid than others, that was all. 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


47 

“They are coming,” Merwin whispered in his ear, 
bringing him back with a shock of reality. “Two cars. 
One from either direction, exactly on the tick of eight. 
Trust the Unknown Quantity to be involved, if they 
possibly can be.” 

By looking hurriedly up and down the avenue, 
Rhoades saw that his companion was right, to the 
extent that there were two cars, but as to who or what 
they might be or whom they might represent, he hadn’t 
the vaguest idea. 

“I’ll take the number of the northbound, you take the 
other,” Croucher suggested. “They both have license 
plates, which doesn’t look quite right after all.” 

To the casual observer, there was nothing to dis- 
tinguish either car or its occupants from any other of 
a thousand cars which might pass day or night. They 
were idling along from twelve to fifteen miles an hour, 
and the first car to pass their post was a small touring, 
with a man at the wheel and a woman and children in 
the tonneau, doubtless some family party out for an 
airing, whom chance had brought past the Rhoades 
house at the psychological moment. As for the other 
machine, a larger touring car which passed in the 
opposite direction a fraction of a minute later, there 
was nothing to distinguish it from countless others, 
no more than there was anything to distinguish the 
man at the wheel, who was plainly a chauffeur, or the 
one occupant of the tonneau, a woman who sat with 
face averted, without even a casual glance in the direc- 
tion of the Rhoades house. Yet at sight of the woman, 
an electric thrill seemed to course through the veins of 
the men, to communicate itself to the others, seemed to 
rivet in the minds of all a common conviction. 

“A woman, at that,” Cheever Rhoades gasped. “It’s 
rather taking advantage of us. I wonder, is she the 
one who ’phoned me?” 


48 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


“Not a doubt of it,” Merwin agreed. “But let’s 
go inside now and plan for the future. Matt, I sup- 
pose you want to trace that number and see how your 
shadows are working. You look eager to get at some- 
thing.” 

“There they go now,” Croucher informed, as a small 
runabout slipped down the avenue in the wake of the 
touring car which had carried the lone woman in the 
tonneau. “They may not be very clever at such work, 
but I don’t think a woman can give them the slip. I’ll 
drop back later.” 

Once inside the house, in the large living room whose 
French windows looked down upon the silvery ribbon 
of the Bay, Rhoades rang for cigarettes, wandered 
aimlessly about for a moment, then paused before his 
companion. 

“It rather upsets me, Merwin,” he announced ab- 
ruptly. “It’s the first time I’ve had an attack of the 
nerves for years, and I think it’s the first time I ever 
knew I had an enemy.” 

“I fancy the feeling must be a natural one,” his com- 
panion agreed, with a well-controlled quaver in his 
laughter. “Perhaps it is stage fright, or what the 
green soldier gets the first time he goes under fire. Just 
settle down to business and it will wear off. Let us 
look things in the face. You didn’t answer their signal, 
so that means fight. I suppose their next move will 
be made rather soon. What do you think it will be?” 

“It can’t be an attack upon the sub itself,” Rhoades 
returned. “For I went carefully over the thing myself 
an hour ago, and doubled the guards. That’s safe, so 
I fancy their next stop will be to communicate with 
me in some unusual manner, to let me, or us, I should 
say, know the text of their ultimatum.” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Merwin pondered, “but 
as to the plans themselves ?” 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


49 


“They’re locked up in the safe, in this little work- 
room to the right. I alone know the combination. 
Besides, there is a secret electric wiring running down 
through one leg, into the basement and up to my room. 
It’s the safest alarm I know. I put it there myself 
some years ago, as a fad. I haven’t used it for 
months, but I tried it this afternoon after coming back 
from the drive. When I set that alarm, you couldn’t 
touch a thing on or about that safe without my know- 
ing it.” 

“And coming down with an automatic to investi- 
gate?” Merwin laughed admiringly. “Well, I guess 
that part of it is safe, but I just wanted to know. I 
hope you will pardon the suggestion, but I would feel 
easier if you would ring police headquarters and have 
a plain-clothes man sleep in the house for the night. 
Then to-morrow you could have the plans removed to 
some down-town vault. You see, I too must now 
fight for the State.” 

“I don’t anticipate any direct violence, at least, not 
until we have heard from them again.” 

“No more than you anticipated being kidnapped in 
your own car in daylight,” Merwin retorted, and this 
time there was real concern in his voice and man- 
ner. “They’re the most resourceful outfit I ever 
had anything to do with. They almost make me 
afraid.” 

“Well, if that’s the way you feel about it, it cannot 
do any harm to have a plain-clothes man up,” Rhoades 
conceded. “But I thought the local police were to be 
kept out of it.” 

“As much as possible,” Merwin agreed. “But this 
looks to me like an emergency when we would be ex- 
pected to use our own judgment. Besides, there’s no 
occasion to tell them the whole story. Wait an hour 
or so, then tell them just enough to get by with. 


50 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


Croucher will probably be back shortly. By the way, 
how many people are there in your household?” 

“There’s Benson, the secretary, you have seen him.” 

“Been here long?” Merwin inquired with an inflec- 
tion which nettled his host. 

“We can rely upon Benson absolutely,” Rhoades re- 
turned shortly. “Then there’s Hong Wah, the Chinese 
servant whom you saw a few minutes ago, and my 
sister and her maid. My sister is away for several 
days, for which I am thankful, but the maid is some- 
where about the house.” 

“Would she be, by any chance, the young lady whom 
I caught a glimpse of when I was here this afternoon?” 

“Rather tall and dark,” Rhoades replied slowly, as 
though he had suddenly found a fresh train of thought. 

“The same,” Merwin answered. “Rather too re- 
fined a person for the position, don’t you think? But 
don’t let us jump at conclusions.” 

“The girl is more of a companion than a maid,” the 
younger man explained. “Besides, she’s been in the 
house for several months. No, I don’t see the slightest 
danger from inside. That must be Croucher coming 
now.” 

It was Croucher, but a Croucher very much subdued 
and humbled. That much was plain even before he 
crossed the room and lowered his huge frame into a 
convenient divan. 

“Blast their bones,” he rumbled, but without much 
power back of it. “But they’re clever ones. The 
woman’s the bird all right. The first car belongs down 
the avenue a couple of blocks, stock-broker who had 
his family out for a spin. Nothing to it. The other’s 
the one ” 

“Then your men tracked them ?” Merwin demanded, 
rather sharply. 

“Sure. They tracked ’em all right,” Matt Croucher 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


51 


laughed mirthlessly. “Got the car, but the birds, they 
just vanished.” 

“Surely they can be tracked by the car,” Rhoades 
suggested with some eagerness. But Croucher echoed 
his mirthless laughter. 

“We know who owns the car, sure enough. And 
guess who it is. You wouldn’t, for it’s the Mayor’s 
car.” 

“Stolen?” Merwin demanded, and the huge man 
nodded his assent. 

“My shadows didn’t do so bad, up to a certain point,” 
Croucher explained. “Followed the car to the ferry, 
and on the boat for Oakland, car and all. Couple had 
left the car though, by the time they caught up, and 
still they thought it would be meat to see who drove 
the car off the ferry at the other end ” 

The seaman paused long enough to waste a few ex- 
pletives on the unoffending air. 

“Well?” Rhoades insisted. 

“They didn’t ever come back to drive the car away, 
that’s all,” Croucher concluded. “That’s when the 
ferry people found out ’twas the Mayor’s car, swiped.” 

For a long time there was silence in the room, a 
silence which was an unconscious tribute to the mys- 
terious power back of this new element which had be- 
gun its ruthless play, a silence through which little 
furrows of doubt or fear crept into the faces of the 
three men. 

“Twice, in succession, without a clue,” Merwin com- 
mented slowly, as he shook himself with a little nervous 
fling of the shoulders. “You will ’phone for the plain- 
clothes man, Cheever?” 

In response, Rhoades walked into the work-room 
to the right and picked up the ’phone. A moment later 
he was in touch with headquarters, and while he was 
busy at the line, Merwin rose from his position and 


52 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


approached Matt Croucher with an unexpected sav- 
agery in his manner. 

“Rufus Nallfar,” he demanded, in a thick whisper, 
“is he ready?” 

Whereupon the big man nodded eloquently, not 
trusting his voice in that limited space. 

“There can be no mistakes, no bungling, this time?’’ 
Andre Merwin insisted, with such intensity in his 
manner that the huge man drew back in alarm. 

“None,” Matt Croucher returned succinctly, and it 
was to be seen that his great fingers were working 
spasmodically. “And you? What have you done 
about the Chink ?” 

“Nothing yet. But wait,” Merwin cautioned. “We 
will test him shortly. Ah, Cheever, everything pat 
with headquarters?” 

“They’re sending a man. Weren’t very keen about 
it. Will you wait and look him over.” 

•“There’s no call for that,” Merwin returned. “Any 
man from headquarters will be reliable. With a de- 
tective camped for the night on the divan here, and 
an electric alarm running to your room, I feel that I 
will be able to sleep in peace myself. I’ll go back to 
the apartment to spend a quiet evening ; you can ’phone 
me there if I’m wanted.” 

“Very well, but let’s see what Hong can produce in 
the way of a little liqueur and cigarettes before you 
go,” Rhoades returned, as he rang the serving bell. 

A few minutes later, Hong Wah was doing his best. 
He was a very efficient, precise and inscrutable but- 
ler, was Hong Wah, so buttressed with the rules of 
decorum that under ordinary circumstances he would 
have been greatly shocked when Andre Merwin, appar- 
ently in a moment of utter abstraction, reached out to 
offer him a cigarette from his case, as though Hong 
Wah was within the circle of good-fellowship. But 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


53 


for more than a year Hong’s eyes had been wide for 
just such a breach as this, his eyes had been wide in 
blind service to the Empire of Dragons across the sea. 
Hong Wah could not comprehend the abstruse mo- 
tives of men, he knew only that his moment of service 
had come, be it to death or to glory. Hong knew the 
implacable will of the Empire of Dragons. His not 
to question how or why. So, with hand and nerve 
ready to play the part which he knew so well, Hong 
Wah took the case from Andre Merwin’s fingers, he 
filled it with choice cigarettes from Cheever Rhoades’ 
supply, then he returned and placed it on the table 
before Merwin, three matches on the closed case. 

It was going very smoothly, thought Andre Merwin, 
but perhaps after all it was only a coincidence, though 
he was hardly a believer in such things. If only Matt 
Croucher would not stare so across the table. So 
Merwin kicked Matt sharply on the leg, to direct his 
attention to something more personal, then he took a 
cigarette from the case and wasted the three matches 
in succession. Hong Wah politely offered a blazing 
taper, the most natural thing in the world, yet Matt 
Croucher continued to stare. Yes, it was going quite 
according to schedule, thought Andre Merwin. So he 
took the taper from Hong’s fingers, lit the cigarette 
and promptly dropped the burning taper upon the floor. 
Hong Wah was convinced. The gods of his fathers 
were calling. 

He had heard the cry, which was but little better 
than a voice in the darkness. But Hong knew only 
blind obedience, so only one power on earth could stop 
him answering that cry, and that power would be death 
itself. His heart and soul were closed to every impulse 
but that of obedience, so that is why Hong Wah forgot 
for the time being that he was a polite and efficient 
butler. That explains why a few minutes later Hong 


54 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


might have been seen slipping stealthily from the rear 
entrance of the Rhoades household, and out in the 
direction which pointed towards Chinatown. He would 
answer the summons, but as for the rest of it — well, 
why toy with a future which had always been un- 
fathomable as the night? 


V 


If Benton Longley ’s appointment to test out the 
elusive joys of the moonlit deck of the Sausilito ferry 
with a certain representative of the opposite sex whom 
he had affectionately dubbed Snubby, had been timed 
for any other night but this, the whole tangle of human 
events might have straightened out in any one of a 
thousand other ways. But as this happened to be the 
night of nights, it chanced that his mind was any- 
where but on his program of duties. Longley was 
already chafing against the last hour of office duty 
and was counting the chances of a clear even- 
ing, when Chief Barker answered the summons of the 
’phone. 

“Blast the luck,” Longley muttered, with a sort of 
hopeless resignation, as he calculated the cost of steal- 
ing away while the Chief was engaged. But when he 
thought of Snubby and the home they might never 
have, he decided to face it out. Besides, he could tell 
from Barker’s manner that there was a certain amount 
of urgency in the case. There was one thing to be 
said for Barker — he always did an unpleasant thing 
with a smile on his face. 

“Sorry to use your evening, Longley,” the Chief 
announced with an apology which only slightly toned 
down the command back of it, “but there’s a bloke up 
on the Heights wants a man to spend the night on the 
parlor sofy watching a safe which he thinks has got 
wings. Haven’t anything on, have you?” 


56 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


“The night staff’ll be on in ten minutes,” Longley 
ventured timidly. 

“He says there’s twenty yellow boys in it,” the Chief 
smiled. “We can go fifty-fifty.” 

Longley’s training through various stages on the 
force had encouraged quick thinking, so that now he 
suddenly saw fresh possibilities stretching out before 
him. Once away from the office, he could ’phone the 
bloke on the Heights that he couldn’t be up for a couple 
of hours; he could still taste the joys of the moonlight 
and Snubby, split the twenty, and 

“Sure thing,” he agreed. “Where’s the house?” 

The moment he stepped outside the office precincts, 
Longley became a human being instead of a plain- 
clothes man. He forgot even the fundamentals of his 
training. He totally overlooked the possibility that 
anything could depend upon his actions. When he en- 
tered a public ’phone booth to communicate with the 
house upon the Heights, he wasn’t even remotely on his 
guard. Even when he toyed around for a few minutes 
longer over his second message, to impress upon 
Snubby the fact that she would be even more glorious 
than the moonlight itself, and that she must meet him on 
the water-front *to save time, it did not occur to Long- 
ley that the man in the next booth hadn’t rung the 
bell, which is the signal of a bona fide message. 

Nothing occurred to him except that he was as happy 
as a boy who enjoys a holiday all the more because it 
is stolen. So, with the official plain-clothes man 
crowded into the background, Longley the civilian went 
blithely out to saunter down the street. He found 
there was time to take a turn up and down Market 
Street before walking to the water-front, for Snubby, 
as usual, would be late. Even out there in the glare 
of lights he was totally oblivious to the plottings of 
Fate, he was most uninterested in the actions of two 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


57 


men in whom he should have been the most interested. 
By the time he reached the water-front there was only 
one thought in his mind, and that was the way Snubby 
would smile with her eyes as well as her lips. Yes, 
it would be a night to remember. As he turned to the 
left at the foot of Market Street, Longley quickened 
his pace. 

Some two or three blocks over, a man rushed up to 
him, a man whom he had never seen before, but a 
man short-winded from his exertions and whose lips 
seemed white and trembling. Even before he spoke, 
there was something disquieting about it all. 

“You Longley the detective?” the stranger de- 
manded, without ceremony. 

“You’ve got me spotted, stranger,” Longley agreed, 
“but why this speed? Slow up and tell me about 
it.” 

Whereupon the energetic stranger gripped him by 
the arm and started off again, half-dragging the plain- 
clothes man with him. 

“The woman . . . hurt . . . said you’d be here ” 

But that was all Longley needed to hear. At that 
point he too broke into a run, without quite knowing 
where. 

It must have been the exercise which checked Long- 
ley’s brain functions. But however that may be, he 
quite overlooked the fact that they were getting into 
a queer district for one of Snubby’s tastes. Longley 
followed briskly for a block and a half, two paces 
to the rear, then he turned sharply and followed into 
a house whose front steps the stranger took at a 
bound. Just there, a fraction of a second too late, 
Longley’s brain functioned, and he sensed the danger. 
He swung about to meet it, and that is why he received 
the blow on the side of the head instead of on the 
back as the schedule of events had prescribed. He 


58 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


promptly forgot all about Snubby and the moonlight, 
for the whole world had grown dark. 

“Pretty smooth stuff,” Rufus Nallfar complimented 
his satellites collectively, “but I hope you didn’t rap 
him too hard, Kingway.” 

“Not a bit of it,” that youthful buccaneer returned 
quite serenely. “I possess the art of rapping to a 
degree which makes it a science. He’s only laid off 
work for an hour or so. Now for his papers. Turn 
him over, Johnston, and rifle his pockets. Better band- 
age his head, Rufus. You know, we’ve got to get him 
away from here sooner or later. What have you 
found, Johnston? His badge, identification card and 
his gun. Well, I guess that’ll be about all Rufus needs, 
eh, you devil turned saint for the night. Such a pretty 
watch-dog Rufus’ll make, curled up on a sofy. But 
you always did get the smooth end of everything. They 
say he serves wine, but don’t let it go to your head, 
Rufus.” 

“Shut up, you idiot,” Nallfar growled good-natur- 
edly. “Don’t forget we’ve got to get this mess 
cleaned up. Do you think I’m going up to the 
Heights before I see this bird tucked away snug for the 
night? No traps for Rufus.” 

With that, the man who passed by the name of 
Rufus Nallfar calmly appropriated the badges of of- 
fice which had once been Longley’s, looked on indif- 
ferently while the latter was bundled through the 
back doorway and into a waiting cab, then with a re- 
minder that he would drop around somewhere later 
to see that the bird was properly stowed away for the 
night, he straightened up, brushed himself smooth of 
all signs of violence, and stepped through the front 
doorway. There, after replacing the “For Sale” sign, 
locking the door and dropping the key down the 
sewer, he sauntered coolly down the street. For 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


59 


Rufus Nallfar, like Andre Merwin, believed in a stage 
front. He was a handsome beast, at that, and perhaps 
that is what helped him to get away with it. Some- 
what beyond medium height, youthful and muscular, 
of that shade of countenance which some mistake for 
savagery, and to-night dressed very simply, there was 
absolutely nothing in manner or appearance to suggest 
that he was other than what he wished to be, a plain- 
clothes man on duty. 

Rufus Nallfar sauntered, and Snubby paced up 
and down, almost to the limit of her patience. Once 
seeing Snubby, one could appreciate the playful appel- 
lation, also the fact that the plain-clothes man preferred 
the moonlight to the glare of day. But quite apart 
from that, Snubby reached the limit of her patience at 
the identical moment she became aware of the fact 
that a rather handsome beast of a man had passed her 
three times, most deferentially. 

“Miss . . . er . . . er . . . Bellamy-Smith ?” he sug- 
gested, with due respect, at the same moment producing 
the signs of office. Snubby agreed, quite coldly. 
Whereupon she listened to a fanciful tale of how Long- 
ley, at the last moment, had been despatched by the 
Chief upon an important duty which must deprive him 
of the joys of the Sausilito ferry. The dark man had 
volunteered, as a friend, to carry the unfortunate news. 
With that, Snubby departed, her head at a dangerous 
tilt, and totally independent of the offer of escort. No, 
Snubby would make no outcry that night. It was 
doubtful even if she would be the first to speak again. 

Rufus Nallfar sighed, as at an opportunity lost. 
Then he consulted his watch and discovered it to be 
ten o’clock. 

“Another hour,” he commented to himself, “then me 
for the house on the Heights.” 


VI 

Having ’phoned for a plain-clothes man, and having 
been assured that a plain-clothes man would arrive 
at eleven sharp, the odds were ninety-nine to one that 
Cheever Rhoades would not look for anything else in 
the way of humanity. So, when promptly at eleven, 
Rufus Nallfar rang the bell, presented the badge of the 
department, and adopted the manner of one who has 
come to stay, he was welcomed for his surface value, 
particularly when later on he chatted so intimately con- 
cerning the Chief, the department, and all its routine. 
Besides, he looked so wonderfully efficient. He in- 
spired confidence. More than once had Andre Mer- 
win commented mentally that Nallfar was a real 
find. 

As a matter of fact, Nallfar proved himself such 
an agreeable companion and so judiciously avoided all 
reference to the motive of his visit, that his host, as 
predicted by Kingway, rang for a serving of wine. 
When Hong Wah responded, he was at his best. For 
the first time in the period of Hong’s servitude, 
Rhoades fancied he detected some emotion, some spirit 
of lightness, which made the man human. 

It is quite true that Hong’s heart was lighter than 
he had known it for many a day. The burden of fear, 
the eternal load, had been lifted. For Hong had an- 
swered the summons of his gods, the service which 
neither he nor his dead ancestors could shake from 
them, which had followed him across the waters. But 
60 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


61 


where he had gone with white lips to face the unknown 
terror, he came back with a smile in his heart. It was 
all so simple. The service of the gods of the Empire 
of Dragons was good. The unknown terror had not 
been a terror after all. It was nothing more than a 
crisp new bill which crinkled every time he ran his 
hand down his pocket, a small pair of shears, and a 
wire which ran across a joist in the basement. No 
wonder Hong’s heart was more sparkling than the wine 
he served. Often had he wondered just what that wire 
could mean, and now it was the way of favor to his 
gods. When there came two raps, in the dead of night. 
Such were the instructions. Hong prayed to his 
saints that he might not mix them with the pounding 
of his heart. 

So, with a touch of wine which left their spirits 
mellow, Cheever Rhoades and Rufus Nallfar talked on 
into the night, until at one o’clock the latter rose politely 
and began sauntering aimlessly about the room, study- 
ing the art work, the paintings upon the wall, anything 
which seemed to reach his fancy. 

“I fancy you would like to have a look at the safe 
before I turn in,” his host laughed, “I suppose the 
Chief told you the idea.” 

“Quite enough,” Nallfar returned, “but it wouldn’t 
be a bad idea to look over the ground ; not that I antic- 
ipate any trouble.” 

After which, they looked to the locks upon doors and 
windows, tested the electric alarm and found it work- 
ing, dimmed the lights and sat for a few minutes in 
the dark. 

“Well, I’ve a big day to-morrow,” Rhoades finally 
announced. “So I’m going to sleep on it. If you 
want to stretch out, there’s the divan. We’ll pull it 
up so you can keep your eye on the safe every minute 
of the night. I’m glad you brought your gun along. 


62 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


I have another upstairs, so if the one chance in a thou- 
sand should happen, don’t hesitate to make a noise. 
Well, good luck, old chap. Sorry to make you lose 
your sleep. Help yourself to the cigarettes, it’s the 
best I can do.” 

With an indifferent admonition to his host not to 
worry, Nall far dropped to the divan and made him- 
self comfortable almost before Rhoades was out of 
sight. For a long time he lay there, motionless, as 
one who sleeps, yet his ears were keen for every noise 
of the night. One by one he counted the actions of 
Cheever Rhoades as he passed from room to room, until 
finally the last evidence of his presence in the house 
died away. Through it all, and long after, Nallfar’s 
ears were straining for other sounds alien to nature. 
For an hour he remained there, relaxed, motionless, yet 
never for a second did his senses forget their duty. 
Then, as though satisfied with the current of events, 
Nall far rose noiselessly and knocked twice, softly, upon 
the floor. 

Hong Wah was a traitor, but he must know to whom. 

A half-hour later, Nallfar rose again, and this time 
he tugged violently at the knob on the safe door, he 
spun the dial and he fingered the hinges, then he went 
swiftly back to his couch. 

For an hour this time he was still as the night itself, 
but the only sounds which came to him were the un- 
placeable murmurings of the city. It was plain now. 
Hong Wah was not faithless to his gods. 

As for Hong, he did not pretend to understand the 
motives of men or the ways of his gods, but he did 
grasp the theories of self-protection. With the guilty 
shears in his hands, and his work done, the old weak- 
ness of terror gripped him, so that his knees rattled 
together like noiseless castanets. For a long time 
Hong stood thus, with shears poised, then at length 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


63 


his brain found a way out and his knees became normal 
again. With infinite care, Hong moved across the 
basement floor with the noise of a feline stalking. 
With the same precautions, he unlatched the basement 
window, opened it, and crawled through. Then he stole 
along in the darkest shadows of the houses for three 
blocks until he came to the nearest sewer hole. Hong 
sighed as the incriminating tools were cast from him. 
Again outside the window, Hong paused and studied 
the situation for a long time. At last, he produced a 
knife and with the same laborious care removed the 
pane of glass nearest the catch. He did not scrape 
away the putty, for that might make a noise. And 
there was a big dark man somewhere up above on a 
divan, a man who should have been in his bed some- 
where. No, Hong could not understand the relations 
of men and gods, so he cut the pane free with a knife. 
Then he traversed the three blocks again to cast the 
knife from him. This time he studied the open sewer- 
hole, as though peering into the future. At last lie 
turned towards the house with a sigh. He was con- 
tent. To-morrow Hong Wah would be as impassive 
and inscrutable as his gods themselves. 

It was about this time that Nallfar rose for the third 
time from his couch, and with some of Hong's intuitive 
caution crossed noiselessly to the safe. This time he 
sat down in front of it, cross-legged, and fumbled for 
a minute or more with the dial. Then he leaned back, 
listening, for a quarter of an hour or more, twirling 
the dial softly every minute or so. At last Rufus 
Nallfar seemed content. He applied himself to his art 
with that skill which had made Andre Merwin call 
him a real find. It was less than a half-hour later 
that he was rewarded. The safe was antiquated at 
the best, so he produced a can and squeezed a few 
drops of oil on the hinges before venturing to open 


64 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


the door. He opened the door a half-inch at a time, 
using the oil freely. 

Patience and skill must have their reward. Five 
minutes later Nall far was tucking the right package 
away in the breast pocket of his coat. He closed the 
safe door to within an inch, he took several strange- 
looking tools from his pocket and placed them care- 
fully upon the floor, then he stood up to look about 
and stretch his arms. The patterned shadows from the 
dimmed night lamp left the room weird and grotesque, 
but it was not that which gave him a strange little 
creeping about the spine. It was something which he 
could not quite understand, so he hurried with his 
work. 

Nallfar carefully disordered a rug here and there, he 
placed a book in a crumpled position on the floor, he 
unlatched the French window and left it ajar, then he 
went back to the living room, sat down upon the divan, 
produced a small phial from his pocket, poured a few 
drops of liquid upon his handkerchief and waved it 
about in the air until the atmosphere seemed heavy with 
the power of some narcotic. His next step was to 
place the phial upon a convenient mantel, after which 
he moved a jardiniere stand with its heavy potted plant 
to a position within six feet of the divan. After plac- 
ing a chair directly between the stand and the divan, 
Nallfar seated himself upon the latter and gazed about 
leisurely as though studying the scene. 

Evidently the stage was quite to his liking, for a 
moment later he folded his handkerchief into a bandage 
and wrapped it about his face, tying it behind. Then 
he produced two lengths of rope from his pocket. One 
of these he knotted firmly about his legs, above the 
ankles. The second he tied loosely about his wrists, 
and by a series of contortions worked his arms over his 
head and down his back, leaving one end of the rope 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


65 


dangling to the floor. By stooping, Nallfar found that 
it would be easy to step on the free end of the rope 
and fasten the knot so firmly as to disarm the keenest 
of suspicion. Then he stretched at full length upon 
the couch, and by extending his toes was quite content 
to see that he could just reach the chair placed so con- 
veniently. With that, Rufus Nallfar yawned. It was 
yet some hours before he need step on the rope or kick 
over the chair. 

With that feeling of content which comes from work 
well done, Nallfar stretched out as luxuriously as his 
bonds would permit. Also, he totally relaxed his vigi- 
lance and gave himself up to painting glorious pages on 
the future. At length he closed his eyes. He may 
even have dozed. Of that he could never be sure. But 
there was one thing he did know acutely, and it was that 
even before he opened his eyes again he felt the first 
cold shock of fright. 

Nallfar half-raised himself with a jerk, his brain 
dazed with a realization of what he saw. A woman 
was standing before him, looking down upon his couch, 
but the expression of her features was totally hidden 
by a flesh-tinted mask which covered her face from 
her forehead to her lips. Nallfar reached out to kick 
over the chair, but the woman lifted it deftly beyond 
his reach. 

“I wouldn’t do that,” she said in a soft, low tone 
so nearly like music that Nallfar fancied she must 
have been smiling. A wave of anger drove away the 
man’s first fright, so that he started to struggle to his 
feet, bound though they were. 

“I wouldn’t do that,” she iterated in the same 
cadence, as she produced a heavy and dangerous look- 
ing billy which Nallfar could tell at a glance was loaded 
with lead, “for they tell me I’m rather handy with 
this. I’ve practiced enough, goodness knows.” 


66 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


For a time neither spoke again, Nallfar scowling 
like one who seeks to measure his wits against an 
emergency, the woman in a pose which somehow sug- 
gested laughter. Beyond the fact that she was rather 
above medium height and gracefully slim, the man 
could learn nothing of her. He could not even dis- 
cern the tint of her hair, buried as it was beneath the 
folds of a motoring cap. 

“You are very clever, whoever you are,” the woman 
was the first to speak, “but you are slow, terribly slow, 
for it seems to me that I have been watching you for 
hours. You have taught me some things as well, for 
which I thank you. Have you ever thought of the 
strangeness of fate which always breeds conflict when- 
ever man and woman covet the same thing. That is 
why, even at the danger of seeming rude, I must take 
that package from your coat pocket. You wanted it, 
badly, why, I cannot attempt to understand. I want 
it, just as badly, badly enough to use this weapon, if 
need be. So, when I come to take it, remain perfectly 
still if you would be safe.” 

Rufus Nallfar’s laboring brain failed to find any 
way out while the woman was removing the package 
from his pocket, or even afterwards when she knotted 
the handkerchief more firmly about his face. 

“I will excuse you for not talking,” she resumed a 
moment later. “Also you must excuse me for draw- 
ing that rope more tightly upon your wrists. Now 
for this phial which has an odor like chloroform. 
Really, you need not have any anxiety, for I am quite 
expert in administering the stuff. I will just drop a 
little on the bandage below your nostrils, for you 
really must not give the alarm just yet. I, being a 
woman, must have a couple of hours the start. That 
is only fair. See, that will be just enough to assure a 
couple of hours’ pleasant sleep. Some way or other, 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


67 


I do not think you are so clever after all. I saw you 
building up a nice little stage of events. You were to 
be found in the morning, bound and drugged, but with 
the plans still in your pocket. Even though you may 
have counted upon avoiding a search, it was risky. I 
watched you very carefully, and there was really one 
very important feature which you overlooked. You 
did not leave any signs of violence upon yourself. That 
must be corrected. You have helped me, so I must 
help you. You made it so easy for me to get the 
plans, now I must make it easy for you to escape in 
the morning. Your theory was good, but without signs 
of violence you would have been suspected in the end. 
One must always lend color to theory.” 

With that, the woman rapped him smartly over the 
head with the loaded billy. Rufus Nallfar promptly 
joined the great ranks of the slumberers. 

Which, from the standpoint of Nallfar, was most re- 
grettable, for just there he missed something good. 
For the woman, after a moment’s careful scrutiny of 
the man, in evident anxiety to make sure of her handi- 
work, reached over to the bottle of narcotic, poured 
a few drops upon the handkerchief about his nostrils, 
and then stepped backward to laugh softly. . A moment 
later she fumbled in the folds of the dress about her 
throat, loosened something from a chain about her 
neck, dropped it upon a rug, kicked a corner of the 
rug over the article carefully, then stepped through the 
French window into the gloom of night. 


VII 


Being able to read something into the future and to 
associate events and their reflex actions, Andre Mer- 
win was about early the following morning. At six- 
thirty sharp Rufus Nallfar would kick over the chair 
and raise the alarm, which meant that sometime before 
seven he, Merwin, would be called up on the ’phone by 
Cheever Rhoades. So Merwin rose early and dressed 
leisurely, and shortly before six-thirty was seated at a 
modest breakfast in his favorite corner looking out 
upon Van Ness Avenue. For even in the selection of 
his apartments Andre Merwin had overlooked nothing, 
finding well-appointed rooms in that semi-aristocratic 
district which allowed him to blend inconspicuously 
with the surrounding humanity. 

Merwin was breaking the first toast when the ’phone 
rang. That nettled him slightly. It was before 
schedule, and should therefore be alarming, but per- 
haps it meant nothing more than that Nallfar had 
grown impatient. So Merwin nibbled his toast, and 
when his man would have answered the ’phone he re- 
strained him. At last, when it had rung a great many 
times, Merwin rose and answered the call in a muffled, 
sleepy voice. But doubtless his artistry was over- 
looked, for the voice at the other end seemed much 
perturbed, and not apt to notice detail. 

“What!” Merwin exclaimed a moment later, with 
that proper degree of surprise which he had studied 
so carefully. “You ean’t mean it, Rhoades. You 
68 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


69 


say the place has been broken into during the night, 
the safe robbed, the plans taken and the plain-clothes 
man bound and beaten up? Impossible. . . . Inwood 
found him tied hand and foot . . . drugged and beaten 
. . . when he came in from San Diego. . . . Wait. 

“So you left everything alone, as I suggested,” Mer- 
there . . . there must be clues ...” 

Andre Merwin leaned back with a sigh, then as he 
nibbled again at his toast a worried look of fear came 
suddenly to his eyes. Drugged and beaten ! That 
was not quite according to schedule. The odor of 
narcotics, of course, was quite right, but beaten ? Had 
Nallfar bungled. after all? It was with considerable 
effort that Merwin forced himself to dallv over hreak- 
. . .' I’ll be right over, this minute . . . and, Rhoades 
. . . don’t disturb a thing about the room till I get 
fast quite as though nothing had happened, and it was 
with a decided gesture of anxiety that he finally rose 
to set out for the house on the Heights. 

Once there, Merwin required no forced effort to 
enable him to dash into the house in total disregard 
of all the essentials of formality. Rhoades and In- 
wood were trying to go through the process of break- 
fasting, but at sight of Merwin they gave it up hastily 
and with no apparent regrets. 

“Now tell me all about it,” Merwin demanded, with 
traces of excitement as they entered the library-work- 
room where the litter of the night’s robbery had been 
left undisturbed, “and where’s that police officer? You 
surely haven’t let him go away without me seeing him.” 

“He’s in the next room on the couch,” Rhoades re- 
turned, “the drug seems to have left him a bit 
nauseated. But it is almost worth it, Andre, to see 
you excited for once. I knew there was something 
which could break down that terrible calm of yours.” 
win replied. “Very little mess about it. They must 


70 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


be experts, whoever they were. Now where’s that 
police official? I want to hear what he’s got to say 
for himself.” 

In reply, Cheever Rhoades led the way into the 
adjoining room whose front windows looked down 
upon the street, and in one corner of which Rufus 
Nallfar was stretched out upon a couch, evidently 
asleep. 

“Come, wake up, old man,” Merwin decreed as he 
went over to shake Nallfar’s shoulder. “That’s some- 
thing of a rap he got over the head. What’s his name, 
did you say ?” 

“Longley is the name he gave, Benton Longley the 
detective,” Rhoades returned. 

“Told police headquarters yet?” Merwin demanded 
suddenly, with evidences of fright. 

“Not yet. Longley said to wait, he wanted to be the 
first to tell them. He wasn’t feeling a bit well, and 
wanted a chance to pick up a bit, but he seems to be 
stirring now.” 

“Quite right, quite right,” Merwin returned, “I do 
want to have a look around before more police officials 
start mussing things up and spoiling all the clues. 
There’s bound to be clues somewhere, Cheever. Well, 
my man, you seem to be able to sit up again. Now 
tell us all about it. We don’t want to rush you if you’re 
still sick, but there’s no time to lose, understand ?” 

Rufus Nallfar did understand, though he was the 
only one of the auditors who did. 

“I don’t know anything,” he returned with a touch of 
sullenness, “I can’t tell you anything at all. Mr. 
Rhoades here knows we sat chatting till way after mid- 
night, then we looked to all the doors and windows, 
and when he went upstairs I stretched out on that 
couch over there in front of the safe, where I could 
keep my eyes on it. And that’s where Mr. Inwood 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


71 


found me this morning. I hadn’t moved. I don’t 
know anything, except that I fell asleep, and when I 
wakened with an awful start there was some person 
standing in front of me, not two feet away, looked like 
a woman with a long cloak and a mask ” 

Nallfar, alias Longley, checked his narrative with 
a little shrug of his shoulders which might have been 
a shiver. 

“Well, what happened then?” Merwin put in. 
“Didn’t you do anything?” 

“I hadn’t sense enough to lie still,” the man returned. 
“I sort of remember trying to jump to my feet, then she 
belted me over the head with something. That’s all 
I remember, till I wakened this morning and. found 
Mr. Inwood here pouring water on my face.” 

“Didn’t the woman speak, if it was a woman?” 
Rhoades asked. 

“Not a word that I heard. There wasn’t a sound. 
It sort of seems to me like a dream.” 

“Was there anybody with her?” Merwin demanded. 

“I haven’t the least idea. Didn’t I tell you once 
that all I saw was the woman standing in front of 


“But a woman couldn’t have broken into that safe,” 
Merwin retorted, somewhat peevishly. 

“Any expert could have done the job,” Rhoades re- 
plied. “The safe itself was out-of-date and no doubt 
simple to the cracksman. What I relied upon was the 
electric alarm, and — police protection.” 

“You don’t mean to say the alarm didn’t ring?” 
Merwin exclaimed, with very good display of excite- 
ment. 

“The wire was cut in the basement sometime after 
midnight when Longley and I tested it. It was work- 
ing then.” 

“Any traces of who did it?” 


72 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


“The basement window had evidently been broken 
in from the outside by some person or persons who did 
not spare any pains. The woodwork had been cut 
away from around the glass and the catch lifted. There 
is a clear trail of unlocked doors from the basement to 
this room.” 

“And then this, this dub had to go to sleep,” Merwin 
exclaimed with real animosity in his tones, so that 
Rufus Nallfar shrank back as from a threatened blow. 
He could foresee bad times ahead. “But I’m forgetting, 
what did you find when you came in, Mr. Inwood ?” 

“Well, in the first place,” Inwood replied, “I got 
Cheever’s telegram on the train, and as it was the first 
telegram I ever got from him I came straight here 
instead of going home. I carry a key, so I let myself 
in, and the moment I opened the door I got an awful 
whiff of chloroform. That gave me a pretty bad jolt, 
so I didn’t lose any time investigating. It took me 
about ten seconds to find this person, and a glance at 
the open safe told me what was wrong. I raised the 
alarm, then set about to bring Longley back to life.” 

“What condition was he in?” Merwin demanded. 

“Tied, hand and foot, hands behind his back, hand- 
kerchief, reeking with drugs, about his face, and with 
this cut on the top of his head. Was stretched out 
neatly enough on the couch as though some person had 
placed him there.” 

“Which seems to indicate that there was more than 
a woman in it,” Merwin hastily interjected, “no woman 
could lift that man.” 

“I was sitting on the couch already,” Nallfar put 
in, “and must have fallen back when she hit me.” 

The next few minutes Andre Merwin devoted to a 
systematic search of the premises, overlooking no de- 
tail, from an examination of the basement window to 
a careful study of the French window which was still 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


73 


standing ajar as the night visitor had left it. For 
Andre Merwin could take no chances. The matter was 
beyond his control now, the police were sure to be 
called in, but he could at least see that his own agents 
who had bungled through the night had not left any 
incriminating clues behind them. Merwin was com- 
plimenting himself upon the thoroughness of his work 
when Cheever Rhoades addressed him: 

“It cheers one up wonderfully to see you taking such 
an interest in the case, Andre/’ Rhoades spoke warmly. 
“If only you had spent the night in the house.” 

“If I only had,” Merwin sighed wearily. “Matters 
would have had a different turning,” and he scowled at 
the chagrined Nallfar. 

“Now let us examine everybody in the house,” Mer- 
win suggested a moment later as he ensconced himself 
in a huge chair in the window-nook of the living room, 
which commanded a view of all frontal approaches to 
the house on the Heights. “Just for the sake of 
thoroughness, I will constitute myself an examining 
counsel and we will see just what everybody has to 
say for himself. Perhaps out of that we may get 
something to work on. To start with, we may act 
upon the presumption that it was one or more repre- 
sentatives of our unknown enemies who got through 
the basement window and up here so quietly as not to 
waken that — that boob who calls himself a detective. 
Now, who will we examine first?” 

“Better start at the bottom and bring up Hong 
Wah,” Rhoades suggested, “he may remember some- 
thing peculiar through the night, though he seems to 
have slept through it all — but what’s the trouble ?” 

Andre Merwin had leaped to his feet as though pro- 
pelled by some unseen power, and was staring through 
the window down the street. ^ 

“Look, look — quick!” Merwin exclaimed excitedly, 


74 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


with an appealing glance over his shoulder to the 
others. 

As they were still keyed up by the excitement of the 
night, Rhoades and Inwood sprang forward to see 
what strange phenomenon of the street had broken 
down the massive calm of Andre Merwin, and Harney 
Inwood, being the cooler of the two, was subconsciously 
aware of the fact that as Merwin stepped back to make 
room for them at the window he met the man who 
called himself Longley half way and whispered some 
message in his ear. At least, Inwood recalled Merwin’s 
movement later on, but just now it was so trivial and 
swift that for the present it was quite driven from 
his brain by the more unusual scene on the street be- 
fore them. 

For out there was something very much out of 
accord with the decorum of a summer morning. Three 
men were racing up the street, and just as In wood 
reached the window they turned off the sidewalk and 
up the pathway leading to the house in which he stood. 
Even in their rapid transit over the short twenty yards 
or so from the street to the doorway, Harney Inwood 
could see that one man was a civilian, hatless and 
very much bedraggled and mauled, and with streaks 
which looked very like caked blood running down his 
forehead and face, while behind him ran two men 
wearing uniforms which, at that hasty glance, passed 
as the symbols of law and order. 

Cheever Rhoades, with face white and startled, left 
the window abruptly and reached the doorway in 
time to open it while the bell was still ringing. The 
three men precipitated themselves through the door 
like the beginning of a riot. 

“I’m Longley, Benton Longley, the plain-clothes 
man,” the hatless man announced breathlessly. 

“It’s impossible, quite impossible,” Rhoades returned 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


75 


quickly, though a bit dazed. “Mr. Longley has been 
here all night.” 

“Impossible nothing,” the blood-caked man returned 
with a dogmatic insistence which plainly showed he 
was about to take command of the situation. “Here, 
you fellows, search the house, and do it quick. Enson, 
you go to the back door and keep watch. I’ll stay here, 
and Webster, you search the house. And shoot, Web- 
ster, shoot, if you need to. There’s something pretty 
stiff coming to that cove if I ever put hands to him.” 

“Really, there’s no occasion for all this disturbance,” 
Rhoades interposed as soon as an opening came. “As 
I said before, Mr. Longley spent the night in the house. 
He is just here, in the next room.” 

“Good,” the hatless man exploded, as he began to 
strip off his coat. “Now stand aside if you want to 
see some action.” 

And with that, he brushed past Rhoades and through 
the doorway where Inwood and Merwin were stand- 
ing, into the living room where a moment before Rufus 
Nallfar had been comfortably settled upon the couch. 

The impetuous visitor stared about the room for a 
moment, then he turned upon Rhoades with an angry 
flash in his eyes : 

“What you trying' to put over me,” he demanded. 
“There’s nobody here. You trying to stall to gain 
time? Here, Enson and Webster, search. I’ll tend to 
these coves. Now come across, what’s this mean?” 

Cheever Rhoades stared about him in amazement. 
His guardian of the night before had left, without 
ceremony. Harney Inwood, quick to appreciate the 
situation, made a leap as though to leave the room, 
for through the open doorway of the den he caught a 
glimpse of the French window beyond, still open and 
fronting out upon the lawns. 

“No, you don’t, young fellow, not so fast,” was the 


76 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


interruption of the real Benton Longley as he sprang 
between Inwood and the doorway. “So you’re the 
young’un what’s been passing yourself off as Mr. Ben- 
ton Longley, plain-clothes man. Well, there’s some- 
thing coming to you.” 

“Don’t be a fool,” Inwood interposed. “Can’t you 
see the man got through that window and you’re kill- 
ing our chances of getting him.” 

“Old stuff, old stuff,” Longley jeered. “Once bit, 
a dozen times shy. Now I’m just going to blacken 
them purty eyes of yours, for the sake of what your 
thugs did to me.” 

But the plain-clothes man, winding up to put the 
threat into action, counted without Harney Inwood’s 
training with the ponies, for at the end of the first 
pass he found himself mysteriously and unaccount- 
ably in the grip of an athlete. 

“Now listen to sense,” Inwood remarked calmly 
enough. “If you’re Longley, the detective, as you say 
you are, you’ll know I’m telling you the truth when I 
say the man who posed as you got through that window 
less than a minute ago.” 

“That true, Mister ?” the captive appealed to Andre 
Merwin, for Rhoades had already gone the way of 
Rufus Nallfar. 

“I can’t say,” Merwin returned excitedly. “But 
why don’t you do something instead of standing there? 
All I know is that he was in this room when you rang 
that doorbell.” 

“And my name is Inwood, Harney Inwood,” the 
other added. 

“That’s good enough for me,” Longley returned. 
“Now let’s get busy.” 

The suggestion was superfluous. Rhoades was al- 
ready out upon the lawn, looking down the street, in a 
vain effort to catch sight of the fugitive, while Inwood 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


77 


made a swift run for the buildings at the rear. Andre 
Merwin, for once, seemed to have lost his composure, 
for he was very much in the way of everyone. But a 
search of the out-buildings and the lawns and the 
streets revealed nothing, no more than did the rapid 
tour which they made of the nearby streets in 
Rhoades’ car. 

“He’s back in the house, of course,” the detective 
suggested. “My men’ll have him by this time.” 

But a hurried visit to the house showed nothing 
more than the two stolid policemen in the living room. 

“We’ve gone from cellar to garret and there’s no 
stranger here,” the man called Enson announced. 

“Then we’ll go over it again,” Longley declared 
sharply. 

It was not until another half-hour had been spent in 
futile search that the party were willing to admit that 
the cool visitor of the night before had made a clean 
getaway. 

“Now the first thing for you to do is to prove to us 
that you are the real Longley,” Andre Merwin ad- 
dressed the man testily, when they had gathered in the 
living room again to admit their defeat. 

“The fact that last night’s guest has disappeared and 
that this man brings two police officials with him, is 
proof enough,” In wood returned. “What we want to 
know, Longley, is your story. Rhoades tells me he 
’phoned to headquarters for a man to spend the night 
in the house. I presume you’re the man who started.” 

Longley nodded, but his tongue seemed thickened 
with wrath. 

“And you got that head on the way? Now tell us 
about it.” 

The plain-clothes man did, enriching the detail with 
colorful language, which seemed to ease to a certain 
extent the pain to his professional pride. It seemed 


78 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


that after the attack upon him in the house near the 
waterfront, he had been taken to another vacant house 
in a motor, and had been left there, so securely bound 
that he might have been left to perish except for the 
chance passing of a night patrolman. 

“Now, what did this bird look like?” Longley de- 
manded, after he had told his story. “Sort of a hand- 
some wretch, and dark, almost like a foreigner ? Blue 
suit, checked tie ?” 

“Sounds like your man, all right,” Inwood replied. 

“Well, he’s not the one who gave me this head, any- 
way,” Longley chuckled, with a shade of satisfaction. 
“One of his gang did that. But what’s your story?” 

“Never mind, we had better tell that to the Chief,” 
Rhoades put in. “I’ll get him on the ’phone now.” 

“Get him at his house at this hour,” Longley ad- 
vised. 

When Rhoades left the ’phone a few minutes later, 
with the announcement that the Captain of detectives 
was coming to the house to look over the ground for 
his own satisfaction, and when Longley faced the 
information quite unruffled, his identity was no longer 
doubted. 

Some time later there arrived a man whose very 
appearance tended to put confidence in the souls of the 
weak and fear in the hearts of the erring. A tall, blond 
man, with a blond mustache, and a thin, firm face, out 
of which there peered a pair of eyes so dark by con- 
trast that they seemed to cut through all the shams of 
mankind — that was Donegal Dawn, Captain of Detec- 
tives, set into the framework of a spare, athletic figure. 
And when he moved there was something about him 
suggestive of the lithe, indolent grace of the animal 
holding itself in repression. A wonderfully success- 
ful official was Donegal Dawn, whose fame as the 
tracer of crime had spread from the Siskiyous to the 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


79 


Mexican border, and who now entered the house on 
the Heights with all the quiet confidence of a social 
equal. That, some have explained, accounted for 
much of the success of Donegal Dawn, that he could 
put himself on the level of any man in the State, from 
the man who ruled to the man who knew only the 
gutter. However that may be, just now he seemed 
very much at home. He made others feel the same, 
and somehow, to Cheever Rhoades, the magnitude of 
the crime which had been committed against him 
seemed to dwindle. For the first time in many hours 
he began to feel at ease, his mind began to reach out- 
ward with its belated promptings of battle. It was no 
longer a calamity which had overtaken him. It was 
merely a human agency which could be combated. 

“We will hear your stories, all of them,” Dawn 
spoke calmly and casually, after an introduction to 
Inwood and a careless nod to Longley. “For I must 
confess that my interest has been aroused. It is some- 
thing which seems to pull one out of the dull routine 
of crime, therefore our attitude towards your enemies 
cannot be all hostility, Mr. Rhoades. Let it be mixed 
with gratitude that in this great game of life, no matter 
what our station, there are others to fight with brains 
keener than our own. We in our department require 
an occasional lash such as this. It is all that keeps 
life from becoming impossibly dull, but I was forget- 
ting, Longley, have you had enough, or do you want to 
stick ?” 

“You bet I stick,” Longley exploded, with an im- 
patient gesture of activity. 

“It is my way, Mr. Rhoades,” Dawn philosophized. 
“Put a new man on this case, and he would go at it 
without the proper goad for success, but as for Long- 
ley, he already has the spur of revenge. It’s your case, 
Longley.” 


80 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


“Thank you, sir,” the plain-clothes man returned 
simply, but the real answer was to be seen in his eyes. 

“Now for your stories,” Dawn continued. “Yours 
first, Mr. Rhoades, for you alone know the whole 
thread of it.” 

It was nearly an hour later when Donegal Dawn rose 
to leave them, with the same indolent manner which 
had characterized his coming. He had listened to their 
stories in almost absolute silence, throwing in a perti- 
nent question here and there, but leaving the telling 
entirely to the fancy of the speaker. Cheever Rhoades 
told the most of it, giving every detail that came to his 
memory, from the moment of yesterday’s strange ride 
up to the present. The nature of the plans he was 
forced to tell, the only feature he withheld being the 
mission of Andre Merwin and the proposed sale to the 
State. That, he believed, could have little bearing 
on the case, and he noticed in passing that Andre Mer- 
win was quite ready to accept the role of friend, and 
friend alone. Donegal Dawn heard each one through 
to the end, then he rose to leave them. 

“A magnificent view you have from your windows, 
Mr. Rhoades,” he commented, with the detached ad- 
miration of an artist. 

“But can you tell us nothing, give us no hope, or 
tell us what to do ?” Merwin broke in impatiently. 

“What is there to be said at present?” Dawn re- ' 
turned with a smile. “We know only that there must 
have been two conflicting elements at work. The 
one is very powerful and clever, what do they call it, 
the Unknown Power, and as to the other, we know 
only that they were represented by a dark handsome 
man who has a cut on his head, who is devilishly cool 
and who came here prepared to take a long chance, and 
who knows the rudiments of safe-breaking ” 

“How do we know?” Merwin interjected. “Perhaps 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


81 


there is only the one organization, the Unknown Quan- 
tity, against us after all. That man who posed as 
Longley seems wonderfully resourceful. Perhaps after 
all, his story of the woman was only fiction, perhaps he 
carried the plans away with him in his pocket.” 

Donegal Dawn shook his head slowly. 

“There are two distinct parties,” he pronounced con- 
fidently, “I have seen something of criminals, but I 
have never yet seen one who would needlessly sacrifice 
an associate, and so leave behind him a hankering for 
revenge. The dark stranger did not represent your 
Unknown Quantity. For the present we may accept 
his story to you as true in its outlines, though not in 
its details. Now I must return. Drop around and 
see me, Mr. Rhoades, at your leisure.” 

With that, he turned and left them, followed by 
Longley and the uniformed officials, the latter having 
remained outside, beyond earshot. 

“Wooden,” was the comment of Andre Merwin to 
the broad back. “Wooden, like all the rest of them.” 

“So there are two of these strange parties,” Harney 
Inwood mused abstractedly. “What schemes must 
have gone astray.” 

“You noticed what he said,” Cheever Rhoades added 
slowly, “that the dark man whom we have all seen was 
not the agent of the Unknown Quantity. How could 
Dawn know that, so soon?” 

“The man is a wizard,” Inwood returned, with a 
covert glance at Andre Merwin. “He seems to know 
nothing, to care little for what you are saying, but 
people have told me that he has a wonderful faculty, 
almost a sixth sense, for cutting down into the heart 
of things. He has cleaned up the city in a remarkable 
manner since he came into office. And he does it for 
the love of the work. I happen to know something 
about Dawn. He is not the ordinary official who has 


82 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


fought his way through all the political machines and 
so into office, regardless of ability. If you were to 
trace Dawn back in his private life, you would find that 
he is a millionaire who has taken up this sort of work 
as a fad. No, I would hate to be of the criminal type, 
with Donegal Dawn on the side of law and order. So 
when he says the dark stranger is not of the Unknown 
Quantity, I am satisfied to work along those lines. But 
hello, here’s Benson, looking as mournful as a rainy 
day, and I suppose I’ll have to turn around and tell 
the whole story all over again, but not, Benny, old chap, 
until we’ve had a look at those telegrams. Anything 
that looks like a communication sets my heart a-flutter- 
ing this morning. We wait patiently, Cheever, while 
you read them.” 

“Just a reply to my last night’s wire to the Depart- 
ment of State,” Rhoades explained, as he threw the 
first lettergram aside. “After insisting upon secrecy 
so long, they suggest now that we bring in the police. 
As if ” 

Cheever Rhoades broke short in his sentence. Har- 
ney Inwood sat suddenly upright, then leaned forward 
with nervous alertness to watch the face of his friend 
which had grown pale and tense. 

“I — I don’t understand, this is getting rather too 
much for me,” Rhoades said rather wildly, while the 
hand that held the second message fluttered uncer- 
tainly. 

Andre Merwin sprang forward and took the tele- 
gram from his fingers. 

“Yes, Andre, read it,” Rhoades laughed somewhat 
harshly. “This is growing most interesting.” 

Harney Inwood, watching closely, saw a sharp con- 
traction of Andre Merwin’s lips as his eyes followed 
the message, but when he read it aloud his voice was 
cool enough. 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


83 


“The telegram is addressed to Rhoades, it is signed 
by the Unknown Quantity, and it says: ‘Your time is 
passing. You failed to answer the signal last night. 
Now comes the ultimatum. If you do not give the 
signal on the City Hall steps at twelve to-day, we will 
take what we want/ ” 

Cheever Rhoades sat down suddenly, as though over- 
come by weakness. Andre Merwin stood fumbling the 
telegram, turning it over and over in his hands, 
while Harney Inwood, with a long-drawn whistling 
sigh, stood staring through the window, far out over 
the city to where the silvery ribbon of the bay spoke 
only of peace. 

“It means then,” said Rhoades, speaking at last, 
slowly, as though groping his way. “It means that it 
was not the Unknown Quantity who got the plans last 
night after all.” 

“It means,” Inwood added, “that there are not two 
organizations ready to fight for them, but three. 
Cheever, you seem to have touched the spring to turn 
the world upside down, and to have set abroad the 
spirit of acquisition. Going to leave us, Merwin? I 
hardly blame you.” 

“I am going to see Matt Croucher,” Merwin re- 
turned, but Inwood noticed that as he went he seemed 
a little dazed, as though he had looked suddenly into 
the future and seen something he could not face. 


VIII 


For some time after the departure of Merwin, In- 
wood ambled about the rooms in a detached manner, 
fumbling articles in no way remotely connected with 
the incidents of the past night, doing the most trivial 
things mechanically, until at length he paused before 
Rhoades and stood for a long time staring down upon 
him. Rhoades, he could see, was calm enough, he 
had taken on the attitude so familiar when problems 
of his machine had faced him. 

“Say something to me, Cheever,” Inwood spoke at 
last. “Tell me if I’m quite right in the head. I don’t 
remember taking anything last night, but now I’m see- 
ing and hearing things which don’t quite fit in with my 
ordinary way of living. Just what does all this mean? 
Is it a huge hoax you and Merwin have been staging, 
or is it all true?” 

“I wish I knew, old boy,” Rhoades replied. “It’s 
serious enough so far as I am concerned. And now 
I’m trying to think, trying to think of one little thing 
to put our fingers on to give us a start.” 

“Then if it’s straight hard facts we’re facing, let’s 
sit down and look at them. Just how serious is it to 
you? The plans seem to have disappeared. Just how 
bad is that ?” 

“If I knew who had them, I could answer better. 
If it’s some ordinary thief looking for reward, that 
will be easy enough, for we’ll hear from him soon. 
If there is by any chance such an organization as that 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


85 


lunatic in the car was trying to tell us about yesterday, 
and if they are the ones who got the plans in spite of 
that telegram, then it is fairly serious. Not that the 
plans would help them much, but it shows their power. 
If it is possible that there are fanatics of that sort in 
the world, they could only want the plans to destroy 
them, a matter which I could overcome with a few 
weeks’ work, but it probably also means that their 
next attack would be made on the submarine itself, and 
it would be a pretty stiff jolt if all my work for the 
past two years was suddenly blown into the air. Just 
now the machine is closely guarded by men I have 
known for a long time and can trust, but you know 
yourself that whoever got those plans from that safe 
is resourceful. But, Harney, I’m inclined to believe 
that telegram and I’m afraid. What if the agents of 
some foreign Government — you know who I mean 
— are the devils who are at work, who even have those 
plans at this minute? When I think of that, it drives 
my brain into a panic. My God, Harney, what a 
fool I’ve been. I thought I took precautions, but 
like a fool, I didn’t make sure. It will kill me, old 
boy, if I have planned an engine of warfare like that, 
only to let its secret fall into the hands of the 
enemy. My God ! Think ! They could turn it against 
us.” 

As though caught in the panic of his own fears, 
Rhoades sprang to his feet and stood there rigid, hands 
clenched, like a man in defiance, waiting for an enemy 
at whom to strike, but seeing no outlet for his violence. 

“Is it as bad as that?” Inwood asked quietly. 

“Worse. Much worse. It may even be the whole 
future, of all of us, of everybody.” 

For a time Inwood mused in silence, he picked up 
the lettergrams from where they had been thrown 
upon the floor and read them through again, then 


86 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


suddenly the crisp little lights of action sprang to his 
eyes. 

“It is a bigger thing than I ever imagined/’ he spoke 
at length, slowly, as though arguing with himself. 
“Perhaps it is something over which men would take 
great chances, for which they would plot long, for pri- 
vate reward or for other things. Perhaps. I’m not 
quite sure, but perhaps I see the suggestion of a way 
through the maze. If you’ll just let me have Robinson 
and the car, I’ll slip downtown, and I’ll take these tele- 
grams with me.” 

Suiting action to the word, Inwood crowded the 
messages into the pocket of his coat, and Rhoades, 
watching, saw an expression of surprise leap to his 
companion’s features. 

“What is it, Harney?” he asked anxiously, as he 
watched Inwood slowly withdraw his hand from his 
pocket and extend his arm at full length. 

“I had completely forgotten the clue,” Inwood ex- 
claimed boyishly, as he opened his hand and displayed 
a small gold trinket. “It looks to me like a woman’s 
locket. I remember striking it with my foot when I 
first crossed the room this morning, but so many things 
have happened since that it quite slipped my memory.” 

Doubtless it was this association of the early morning 
which drew Inwood swiftly back over the cycle of 
events and reopened his brain to a vague impression 
which had once sought lodgment and been thrust aside. 
However that may be, he caught back on the pages of 
his memory a sw r ift flash of Andre Merwin as he 
stepped back from the window upon the arrival of the 
police. The episodes of those early moments, when 
all were suffering from the strain of a critical situa- 
tion which had been thrust upon them almost without 
warning, may have distorted the importance of little 
things, he knew, but, even at that, might there not be 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


87 


something more than mere chance in what passed be- 
tween Merwin and the man who escaped? It would 
be absurd to accuse Merwin openly, even mentally, of 
giving the man warning, yet it was this quick flavor of 
doubt as to that incident which now tempered Inwood’s 
conduct, and made him glance swiftly over his shoulder 
and about the room before stepping closer to Rhoades. 

“We will keep this to ourselves, and to Donegal 
Dawn,” he said in a low tone. “No doubt it is ex- 
tremely foolish of me, but since I am so new at this 
sort of thing, I am apt to get queer ideas. Now what 
do you make of the locket?” 

Cheever Rhoades, after the first excitement of the 
morning, was settling down to a methodical coolness 
which augured well for his future. He took the locket 
from Inwood’s fingers and examined it carefully, turn- 
ing it over and over in his hands, but externally it was 
nothing but a plain gold trinket, without marks of iden- 
tification, such as any one of a thousand others might 
be. 

“There may be something inside — a photo, perhaps,” 
Inwood suggested. 

“I appreciated that, but I have been delaying the 
possibility of disappointment,” Rhoades returned, as 
he released the catch. 

For a moment there seemed to be nothing within ; 
then, as Rhoades tilted it sideways, a small fragment 
of paper detached itself from the rim and fell to the 
floor. Inwood picked it up eagerly, and stood staring 
at it in a puzzled way. 

“Well?” Rhoades inquired, with a total absence of 
his earlier confusion. 

“I don’t know what to make of it,” Inwood admitted 
reluctantly. “There is nothing here but a jumble of 
figures, and precious few of them.” 

Rhoades reached over and took the paper from his 


88 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


companion’s fingers, and he in turn studied it for a 
moment. 

“A code,” he concluded, and when he looked up there 
was a queer, bright light in his eyes which Inwood 
could not remember ever having seen before. “We’re 
in the middle of big things, Harney, some great big 
mysterious something which I, by my work, have 
brought upon us. I am all new to this sort of thing, 
but when I look at that code I get a conviction that 
this will be the biggest thing in our lives. There is 
something here more than ordinary theft. There are 
brains and cleverness and black design back of it; there 
may be great powers, but, Harney — we have got to 
win. If we lose, it may mean everything. We are 
handicapped at the start, but — you must forgive me if 
I have been a little unnerved and upset this morning. 
I am settling down now. I am almost ready to see it 
through to the end.” 

There was a little thrill in his voice which spoke of 
battle ; there was a suggestion of the returning fire of 
youth, toned by a maturer judgment, which brought 
home to Harney Inwood more forcibly the drastic seri- 
ousness of it all. There was some higher appeal which 
made the younger man inquire gently : 

“To any end, Cheever?” 

“Perhaps it is the one way in which I can be of 
greatest service,” Rhoades returned, with conviction. 
“So we will say ‘to any end’ — together?” 

For answer, In wood reached out and grasped the 
hand of the other, to seal a pact stronger, higher, more 
noble, if possible, than friendship. 

“To any end, together,” he repeated simply. 

It was one of the big moments in their lives, one of 
the flashes of greatness which shine out above the 
trivial routine of existence, flashes which play here 
and there over the faces of mankind like the vagrant 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


89 


flickerings of lightning, but which are not vouchsafed 
to all. To Harney Inwood it came as the first sobering 
touch of reality ; it was the first stern call of duty 
which had ever thrust itself up through his life of 
idleness, and it is not to be wondered if the suddenness 
of the call left him with a feeling of irresolution. 

“I feel,” Rhoades added, with quiet conviction, “that 
there is something here much greater than my life or 
yours. But we must also remember that a live man 
can serve his country much better than a dead one ; so 
be careful, and since we are on new ground we will 
walk cautiously at first. But now that we both know 
how we feel about it, let’s get back. I believe you had 
an idea which was interrupted by the finding of that 
locket. You were going to do something with those 
telegrams, Harney?” 

“Just the ideas of an amateur,” Inwood returned, with 
a little laugh. “You know I must have something to 
practice with if we are to get at the bottom of this 
affair. I’ll just take these telegrams downtown with 
me, and you had better look up Donegal Dawn. He 
doubtless knows all about ciphers and codes, and if 
that happens to be one of the standards he will prob- 
ably be able to read it at a glance. Dawn’s a wonder, 
if he gets a chance. But don’t expect him to sympa- 
thize with you or tell you anything about his methods 
or how he is getting along, for he’s mum on that. 
When he doesn’t seem to be doing anything, he’s work- 
ing the hardest. Come to think of it, I don’t want your 
car, after all. If you’ll just let Robinson drop me 
around to the Avenue, I’ll drive my own. Cheer up, 
Cheever, and do whatever Dawn asks, even if it’s to 
go out and sing on Market Street.” 

And with his old gay fling of boyishness Inwood 
dashed away. He was finding much relief in action, 
and he was not at all ill-pleased with the possibilities 


90 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


of his mission. He was astonished to find, by a glance 
at his watch, that it was still early forenoon and that 
some of the later business men were just starting out on 
their day’s routine. It seemed to him that a great span 
of time must have passed since he found that strange 
character trussed up in Rhoades’s living room, yet in 
reality it was but a few hours. Perhaps it was because 
of the great change which had come into his own life, 
the impersonal viewpoint which enabled him to catch 
a vague glimpse of the serious affairs of nations, the 
new duty which called him out of his sloth, which 
made the trivialities of yesterday seem so far away. 
But Inwood did not pause long to analyze his mental 
condition. He only knew that he was young, that his 
veins were filled with life, and that here before him 
was a definite purpose which promised activity and 
possibly the thrill of adventure. 

At his big house on Van Ness he dismissed Robinson 
and stepped into his favorite roadster. He would 
follow up this amateurish idea of his on the telegram 
from the Unknown Quantity, then he would take a 
spin around town and be back at Rhoades’ in plenty 
of time to see whether or not it was to be answered. 
Inquiry showed that the message had been handed over 
the counter in the early morning while the night clerk 
was still on duty. Could the night clerk be seen? 
Fortunately he was still at his desk, listing the night’s 
locals. Ten minutes more and he would have been 
gone for the day. This was encouraging. It gave 
Inwood confidence that luck was to be with him. He 
would learn something. 

“I have a lettergram here which you will doubtless 
remember,” Inwood began, when a sallow- faced youth 
came forward. “It is important, but it is vague. It 
is addressed to Mr. Cheever Rhoades.” 

The youth was very weary. His memory was not 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


91 


to be trusted, so he fingered through the night’s reg- 
ister. 

“Which one to Mr. Rhoades ?” he inquired listlessly. 
“There are two locals.” 

Inwood. slipped the anonymous message over the 
counter. 

“You will doubtless remember it,” he suggested. “It 
is not a usual one. What I would like to know is if 
you recall the person who handed it in.” 

The youth’s eyes grew avaricious. 

“I remember it quite well,” he returned, with a 
•vague hint in his voice. “The signature was such a 
queer one that I took a good look at the man, but office 
rules forbid us giving any information concerning our 
customers.” 

“I appreciate the value of rules,” Inwood smiled, as 
he slid a bill towards the sallow youth. 

“But I was going to add that in unusual cases like 
this, where a message seems to convey some threat, it 
becomes our duty to assist in any way we can. The 
man was of medium height, fairly slim, and I should 
say around thirty. He was smooth-shaven, and what 
struck me as peculiar was that though he was quite 
fair, with light hair and light gray eyes, his eyebrows 
were rather dark. I noticed that because my mother 
used to tell me ” 

“The eyebrows,” Inwood interrupted, “were quite 
natural ? They were not penciled ?” 

“Because my mother used to say that such men have 
a terrible temper,” the youth continued, with a touch 
of pride. “The eyebrows, sir, were his own. He wore 
a blue suit with a pin stripe, a pearl gray fedora, a 
checked tie ” 

“Your powers of observation are wonderful,” In- 
wood concluded; “you are simply wasting away your 
youth at a post like this. But it occurs to me that 


92 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


your keen intelligence may have helped to solve a 
great riddle.” 

The youth was flattered. 

“Anything more I can do for you, sir ?” 

“I somehow recall that you mentioned two locals to 
Mr. Rhoades. Can it be possible that this other mes- 
sage, which is dated from Washington, has been listed 
as a local?” Inwood’s eyes were laughing though his 
lips were serious. 

The sallow youth was piqued. He took the message 
from Inwood and compared it carefully with his rec- 
ords. 

“Where it’s dated from is none of my business,” he 
reported, at the end of his search. “But this is the 
lettergram, all right. It was wired in from Oakland 
some time through the night and all Oakland messages 
are listed as locals. It’s in the first zone.” 

“Never mind about the zones,” Inwood exclaimed. 
“But tell me, could that possibly have been a long- 
distance message from Washington relayed through 
Oakland?” 

“That message is numbered as coming through on a 
purely local wire. Anything from Washington would 
come through Sacramento, and it wouldn’t be relayed, 
either.” 

“You mean this message, dated from Washington, 
must have been handed over the counter at Oakland?” 
Inwood demanded incredulously. 

“Sure thing, mister,” the youth grinned. “Sort of 
gets you somewhere, doesn’t it ?” 

“It just means that somebody’s bungled,” Inwood 
returned, as he regarded the youth sagely. He wanted 
to jump with excitement, for already his brain was 
picking up the first threads of the past ; but instead, he 
stood for a moment in silence before he went on: 
“You’re a bright chap. Now just tell me the office 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


93 


where it was handed in, and slip me your name. I 
like to remember the bright ones.” 

“My name’s Struthers, sir,” the youth returned, with 
sudden deference, as he saw another bill traveling 
across the counter. “Our line has only the one office in 
the town. You can’t miss it.” 

“And, Struthers,” In wood whispered, as he leaned 
across the wooden barrier, “from this moment your 
memory is very, very poor. You haven’t seen me at 
all this morning.” 

“Wouldn’t know you from Adam, sir, unless you 
give me the wink.” 

“Struthers, you have a future,” Inwood remarked, 
with evident seriousness, as he turned to leave the 
office. As a matter of fact, he wanted to run. He 
wanted to follow up this suggestion of his brain before 
it eluded him, and he didn’t want interruptions. That 
is doubtless why he hurried so much, and crossed the 
sidewalk so rapidly on his way to the roadster that 
halfway over he all but tilted into a woman who seemed 
to be scurrying to avoid him. When the inevitable 
jostling and side-stepping was over, Inwood found 
himself face to face with a girl, or perhaps it was a 
woman, whose frank blue eyes were looking up into 
his with a quizzical expression, and whose lips were 
parted with uncertainty. 

Harney Inwood looked for an instant, and with the 
first softening of the woman’s eyes all thought of his 
mission left him. 

“You, Lucia,” he gasped, as his hands went out in- 
voluntarily. “This is quite too good to be true. I 
thought you were on your way to Argentine.” 

There was gladness in his voice, in his eyes, in the 
familiar manner with which he drew her over to the 
edge of the curb, out of the line of traffic. There was 
flattery in his attitude as he stood for a moment looking 


94 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


down upon her, as his glance ran over her features and 
rested finally upon her eyes, as might that of a man 
who seeks to convince himself that some new joy is a 
reality and not a figment of fancy. He was frankly 
glad at the sight of her, and when the woman smiled 
back into his eyes it was the delighted smile of a girl. 
When the woman smiled, her lips were delicately 
curved, and there were fascinating little crinkles about 
the eyes and a sparkle in their depths. For a moment, 
caught in the surprise of meeting, all barriers were 
thrown aside, and they were like children delighted in 
each other’s presence. 

Then, as the woman remembered, the gladness faded 
from her eyes. Her expression became at once more 
normal and the curves of her lips straightened out into 
lines, so that when she answered it was with a voice 
which was almost formal. 

“Surely you will admit, Mr. Inwood, that a woman 
may change her mind.” 

“So that a man may take the good the gods provide 
him,” Inwood returned devoutly. “But let us get out 
of this rush, away some place where we can chat. Now 
I know you are not doing anything this morning, and I 
have the roadster here.” 

“Even if my time was as free as the wind, you 
seemed very intent upon something. You almost 
knocked me off the sidewalk.” 

Inwood laughed boyishly. 

“I was just about to take a little run ov£r to Oak- 
land, but that can stand. So just jump into the car 
and we’ll slip out to the beach where we can sit in the 
sun and talk — of the most delightful month I ever spent 
in my life.” 

“I will get in the car upon one condition only,” the 
woman decreed, “and it is that you do not let me in- 
terrupt you in what you were about to do.” 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


95 


“If all your bargains were as easily made, the world 
would be a brighter place,” Inwood suggested mean- 
ingly, and the woman, as though to hide a momentary 
confusion, stepped into the seat indicated. 

For some minutes the driver picked his way through 
the traffic circumspectly, in silence, then as he swung 
off Market Street on the road to Oakland he turned 
partly about in his seat to face his passenger. 

“It’s good to see you again,” he burst out. “If you 
only knew just how you make me feel like a boy again.” 

“Boys are such foolish things,” the woman returned, 
in mockery, but it was quite apparent to Inwood that 
she was not ill pleased with the flattery, “and irre- 
sponsible.” 

“I thought that was just why you liked me,” the man 
ventured. 

“It seems to me you are taking very much for 
granted, Mr. Inwood,” the woman returned, with a 
perceptible hardening in her tones. “I have ridden in 
motors with many sorts of men, and I do not remem- 
ber ever having given you any reason to believe — oh, 
what’s the use of us talking nonsense ?” 

“Because I like it, and it isn’t nonsense. Besides, 
you told me something a few minutes ago which I can 
never forget.” 

“Told you something?” the woman exclaimed, in 
astonishment. 

“I mean your eyes told me something in the first 
surprise of our meeting, before you got them under 
control. That’s good enough for me, until you are 
ready to tell me in other ways.” 

“Please don’t, Mr. Inwood,” the woman begged, as 
though in sudden weariness. “I am enjoying this ride 
so much in some ways that it is too bad to have it 
spoiled in others. You know I have told you how ab- 
solutely impossible it is.” 


96 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


“Nothing is quite impossible,” the man interrupted. 

“Mr. Inwood, I prize your friendship too much to 
lose it,” the woman laughed uncertainly. “We can go 
on being friends, as we are. Beyond that, there would 
have to be explanations — explanations which would be 
the end of it all. I don’t want to destroy your friend- 
ship, but if you make me, I must say something to 
blunt it, just a little. Why, you do not even know who 
I am !” 

“I know that you are Lucia Langmuir,” the man re- 
joined calmly. “And I know there’s an irresistible 
something about you which would make you a temp- 
tation to any man with red blood in his veins. How 
you held them all at arm’s length until I happened 
along is something I can’t understand. I know there’s 
a sheen in your hair which makes one think of sun- 
shine, and there’s a human little smile about your eyes 
and lips which is a promise of happiness. Except for 
a few other little things like that, I must admit you’re 
about the most baffling person I ever met.” 

“I mean you don’t know who I am,” the woman per- 
sisted. 

“You do not mean you are somebody so high in the 
world it would be folly to look up to you?” he asked, 
in sudden alarm. 

“To the contrary, there are men who call me an ad- 
venturess.” 

The woman laughed bitterly, as though there was 
keen pain in breaking down the man’s simple faith in 
her. 

“Men have been scoundrels since the dawn of the 
world,” Inwood returned imperturbably. “It would 
give me pleasure if you would name one or two who 
have been taking such liberties ” 

“If all men were as direct and unaffected as you, 
Mr. Inwood, the world really would be a fascinating 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


97 


place in which to live,” she interrupted quickly. “But 
what I am trying to point out to you is that except for 
a steamer acquaintance which — which you picked up 
with me on the way over from Hong Kong three 
months ago, and except for what you saw of me that 
month when you followed us over to Honolulu, you 
know absolutely nothing as to who or what I am. 
For all you know, I might be the most dangerous 
woman in the world. I might even have a record.” 

Inwood frowned studiously for a moment of silence. 

“I remember you hinted as much once before,” he 
returned at length. “It was the night before you were 
to sail for Argentine, before I lost all trace of you. I 
have wondered since if there really was some reason 
why you wished to hide from me. But you remember, 
Lucia, what I said before about taking you in 
trust ” 

The woman stopped him with a quick little gesture, 
so that the man drove on through a long silence. 

Lucia Langmuir, with her face averted from the 
man, was looking out over the rippling expanse of the 
harbor as the road skirted along the edge of the Bay. 
The waters seemed crisp and glad with sunlight. 
There were innumerable little craft dotting it here and 
there, but the girl saw none of this. In her heart were 
many emotions, and a strange light touched her face. 
A future, new and rich with all the enviable things of 
the world, lay at her right hand, and it was a future 
not entirely alien to the promptings of her own heart. 
In that view she saw herself moving through life se- 
renely, gladly, with all the rough turnings of the 
world smoothed away by this man at her side. No 
longer need she . . . The girl stole a covert look at 
the man, and she saw that his face was set in those hard 
firm lines which seemed a defiance to the conventions 
of the world. 


98 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


In that instant the woman almost leaned toward the 
man impulsively. Then, with a quick gesture, she 
brushed the allurements of that future from before her 
eyes, and with a little catch in her throat she forced a 
gay laugh to her lips. 

“This is a wonderful driveway, Mr. Inwood,” she 
exclaimed, “but your conversation has been so amus- 
ing I am afraid it has made me miss some of the joys 
of it. We are all but there. Will you be long in Oak- 
land? If so, I must take the ferry back, for I have 
duties to perform. Perhaps I should have told you 
before, but now I am — what shall we call it? — work- 
ing. When you knew me before, I was just uselessly 
idle.” 

“I can get you back quicker than the ferry,” Inwood 
returned buoyantly. At the least, there would be a lit- 
tle more of her companionship. 

A few minutes later Inwood swung the roadster up 
to the curb in front of the office he sought, but he did 
not notice the studious glance of suspicion which the 
woman cast upon him. He was once more intent upon 
his work, but inside the telegraph office he met with a 
check. The most definite statement he could induce 
anybody to make was that the message must have been 
handed over the counter some time during the previous 
evening when the night clerk was on duty. The night 
clerk wouldn’t report again until seven in the evening. 
No ; he was a new man, and they didn’t even know 
where he lived. After a few minutes of effort, Inwood 
decided there was no alternative but to give up the 
pursuit of this clue temporarily. 

When the man returned to the car there were little 
frowns of annoyance seaming his forehead. The 
woman, quick to observe, perhaps trained in the study 
of detail, saw, and spoke sympathetically, perhaps lead- 
ingly : 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


99 


“Clerks are such aggravating creatures, so trained in 
discourtesy. I trust I have not delayed you too long/’ 

“Not in the least,” Inwood’s face was washed clear 
of all worry with the first breath of the woman’s sym- 
pathy. “Now if you will just tell me where you need 
to be to carry on this important — what shall we call 
it? — work, of course, we’ll cover that distance in the 
shortest possible time consistent with the vagaries of 
police officials. And I can assure you we’ll just chat 
on the way back.” 

“I’m still with the Odelmans. They have taken a 
house for the season out in the new Park district, you 
know, to the west, overlooking the harbor. It’s a most 
beautiful place. But if you don’t mind, I wish you 
would put the car on the ferry back to the city. It’s 
quicker, and it is much later than I thought. I should 
be at the Odelmans’ somewhat before noon.” 

“Mrs. Odelman, perhaps, is not so well,” Inwood 
inquired politely, but without much interest. “I re- 
member she did not seem to take much pleasure out of 
the sea trips.” 

“She was never better in her life,” the woman re- 
turned quietly. “Perhaps I may have been guilty of 
some deception. When I was companion to Mrs. Odel- 
man, I was but holidaying. But now ” 

The woman broke of! abruptly with a nervous laugh, 
and Inwood waited through a moment of awkward 
silence. At times he remembered having noticed be- 
fore there was something strange and artificial back 
of this woman’s manner, something holding her in 
repression, something, he was quite sure, alien to her 
nature, dimming the brightness of her life like a cloud 
before the face of the sun. 

“But now you are particularly fortunate,” he filled 
in the gap, “in having duties which seem devoid of all 
arduous routine.” 


100 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


There was something depressing, vaguely annoying, 
in the fact that the woman did not answer. It was 
not exactly flattering to find that she was suddenly far 
away from him, out in some strange land for whose 
borders he could only grope. She did not speak again 
until the roadster was climbing the hill to the heights 
overlooking the harbor, and even then it was only to 
indicate the way to the Odelman residence. Whatever 
else the Odelmans may have lacked, they seemed in no 
way hampered for funds, for the house which Lucia 
Langmuir pointed out was one of the most magnificent 
in this select quarter of the city where the lavish dis- 
play of wealth seemed the ostentatious rule. Inwood 
ignored the private driveway which circled for a few 
yards up into a spacious portico, and instead brought 
the roadster to a stop by the curb. 

On the spacious lawns were a man and a woman 
whom he recognized instantly as the Odelmans, who 
had made up the party of which this woman at his side 
had been the third, on the trip over from the Orient. 
The man and the woman seemed to have been ambling 
about the lawns, yet there was in the restless attitude 
of the man something which indicated impatience, ex- 
pectation, even anxiety. 

When Mrs. Odelman — a tall, dark woman of strik- 
ing appearance, faultlessly attired — hurried out to the 
car, there was something about her manner far more 
than welcome for Lucia Langmuir. There was relief. 
There was something which struck Inwood as un- 
usual, though time was lacking to analyze the situa- 
tion. 

“You have been so long, Lucia,” Mrs. Odelman be- 
gan hurriedly. “We were beginning to fear But 

who have we here? What a pleasant surprise, Mr. 
Inwood ” 

Then a worried shade of uncertainty crossed the 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


101 


older woman’s features, and she seemed to be trying to 
catch the glance of Lucia Langmuir. 

“Mr. Inwood has been so kind,” the girl broke in, 
as she smiled at him brightly. “And I know you will 
be sorry, Mrs. Odelman, that he has to hurry away. 
He has already wasted too much time entertaining 
me.” 

It was plain even to Inwood, from the attitude of all, 
from the impatience of the man on the lawn, that to 
delay his departure would be to detain them in some- 
thing which seemed of importance and which required 
no guests. 

It was not until he was sweeping down the hill again 
toward the city that Harney Inwood became acutely 
conscious of the fact that he had been driven away and 
that there had been no suggestion that he return. But 
there was some consolation in the fact that he had done 
as the girl wished him to do. Doubtless there was some 
simple reason why they three wished to be alone, yet the 
reason, whatever it might be, was so strong as to make 
Odelman forget his courtesy. It was not like Markus 
Odelman to stand fuming on his own lawn while a 
guest was at the curb. 

Then suddenly there came to Harney Inwood an idea 
which almost left him dizzy from its significance. At 
first he tried to drive it from him with a bitter laugh, 
but it would not leave him. As he drove along, this 
startling idea seemed less and less absurd. Why not 
harbor the thought? It was no injustice to Lucia 
Langmuir. He had heard of the son, Allen Odelman, 
the fastidious, but he had never seen him. He had 
heard of him so often from the lips of Lucia Lang- 
muir during his last trip to Honolulu that the name 
had become almost a rasp to his nerves. 

Perhaps it was nothing but jealousy which could 
have inspired the thought, but just now he was won- 


102 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


dering, did Allen Odelman inherit the light hair and 
fair features of his father, or was it the dark coun- 
tenance of his mother, or would it be, perhaps — a little 
of both? And somewhere in the world there was a 
tall, slim young man upon whom nature had conferred 
the queer combination of fair features and light gray 
eyes with dark brows. For the rest of his way, Har- 
ney Inwood drove recklessly. 


IX 

“You are very late, young lady,” Odelman spoke 
with scant courtesy when the women joined him, “to 
say nothing of the fright you gave us; can it be pos- 
sible that you have forgotten where we are to be at 
twelve ?” 

“I have forgotten nothing,” the girl replied, with a 
weariness which was not physical. “Have you ever 
yet known me to be late, on my own affairs, at the 
expense of yours?” 

“Did I not tell you so, Markus?” the older woman 
intervened, in a voice soft and smooth in its cadence. 
“You were not always like this, Markus ; you are be- 
ginning to lose your patience. I will be glad when this 
affair is over, for it is beginning to tell on your nerves, 
and no one should risk that, at a critical moment.” 

“Perhaps you are overlooking the fact that this is 
the biggest thing I ever had a hand in ” 

“I am overlooking nothing,” the woman returned 
softly, “not even the fact that Harney Inwood seems 
to have found Lucia again.” 

“You women are queer creatures,” Odelman was 
growing calmer under the woman’s influence, “and I 
wish you would explain to me how you can mix up 
trivial personal matters in an affair like this.” 

“No, not that,” Mrs. Odelman rejoined. “It is 
rather that we do not overlook a single chance. But 
Lucia, I believe, wishes to explain to you how she was 
not detained on her own account.” 

103 


104 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


“Yes?” Odelman’s manner was crisp with antici- 
pation. 

“Benson took too much for granted,” the girl re- 
turned. “His tracks are not well covered.” 

“And you mean,” Odelman demanded, “that he is 
suspected ?” 

“I hardly think any one is suspected yet, definitely,” 
she explained. “Yet there’s an open trail which leads 
back to Benson.” 

For a moment Odelman studied the girl inquiringly. 
There was plainly something which she was not keen 
to tell. 

“And what have open trails to do with us?” he in- 
sisted, “if there is no outsider upon them?” 

“That is just the point,” she responded gravely. 

Markus Odelman lit a fresh cigarette, and smoked 
for a moment thoughtfully. Yes, the association of 
events was as inevitable as the cycle of time. It was 
all quite plain. 

“And this man Inwood,” he began at length, in a 
tone whose very softness was a hint of danger, “did he 
fall upon this quite by chance, or have we unexpected 
brains to reckon with?” 

“A little of both, I think,” the girl returned quickly. 
“For Mr. Inwood is a man of intelligence.” 

As Lucia Langmuir turned away, she was surprised 
at her own reluctance to tell her simple story, for she 
had told herself long ago that all scruples were dead, 
Odelman followed her with growing impatience. 

“Well,” he demanded, “must I drag it from you 
piece by piece?” 

The girl shrugged her shoulders, and dismissed all 
hesitation with a little hopeless gesture. 

“As you know, Mr. Odelman, there were two tele- 
grams delivered at the Rhoades household this morn- 
ing,” she explained, “and it occurred to me that there 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


105 


might be some one with the intelligence to attempt to 
trace them. I waited outside the local office. What I 
could not know was that Mr. Inwood would be the 
one. What he learned I do not know, but I accom- 
panied him afterward to Oakland. Benson was care- 
less, and it was only mere chance which prevented Mr. 
Inwood picking up a pretty warm trail.” 

“And Inwood learned nothing at Oakland?” Odel- 
man asked quickly. 

“Of course not. But you may thank good fortune, 
and nothing else. The night clerk was gone for the 
day.” 

Odelman regarded the girl with uplifted eyebrows; 
then a smile of pleasure broke out about his lips. 

“You are clever enough, Lucia,” he said, “but you 
are too human. If it was only some one else than 
Inwood ” 

“Why make it any harder?” she interrupted, with a 
flash of anger. “I have done my work. The rest is 
yours. Remember, the memory of an impecunious 
telegraph clerk will serve the first master who reaches 
him ; but that is your work.” 

Odelman began to whistle softly to himself. For- 
tune was surely playing into his hands. Events were 
shaping themselves to his wishes. And it was charac- 
teristic of Markus Odelman that he should reach out 
and pluck the fullest offerings of fate when she hu- 
mored him. 

As the girl turned to enter the house, he called to 
her again, and Lucia Langmuir, looking into his smil- 
ing face, saw what she feared to see. 

“Chance has been kind to us,” Odelman began, “in 
placing Inwood within our reach. You know how it 
has been growing increasingly difficult to keep in 
touch with the Rhoades household, without giving wing 
to the quarry. You know how much more difficult it 


106 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


will be in the future. Donegal Dawn, I hear, has been 
put on the case, which was the most obvious thing to 
expect. Dawn will have his watchers. Then there is 
the tribe of Andre Merwin who will have theirs. How 
do you think, Lucia, are we to keep in touch?” 

“How, indeed?” the girl murmured. 

“It is you who know,” the man urged. 

“Am I to sacrifice everything I possess?” she de- 
manded, with a flash of revolt in her eyes. 

“You know the necessity of following the course out- 
lined.” 

Though Odelman paused for a moment, the girl did 
not answer. 

“And to do that, we must know in a general way 
what passes between Rhoades and Merwin,” he con- 
tinued. “To frighten Merwin away is nothing short of 
defeat, and there is little to be gained in breaking 
Merwin if we ourselves do not win. As for Merwin, 
we could break him in an hour, as we could have done 
long ago, but to break him would be to bring about 
the end, and we no nearer the winning than we are 
to-day. You know all that, Lucia?” 

The girl nodded silently, and the man could see that 
the momentary anger which had marred her features 
had faded away. 

“So you can see as well,” he went on more confi- 
dently, “why it becomes necessary for you to do what 
I hope I will not have to ask you to do. I do not want 
to make it any harder for you than is necessary, but 
you know we are all pledged to sink personal consider- 
ations. Perhaps even I — but I can see you recognize 
the justice of my reasoning.” 

“Of course, it is the only thing possible,” the girl 
returned firmly, “but perhaps you will admit I was 
justified in resenting the circumstances which make it 
necessary. I can harden myself to most things, Mr. 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


107 


Odelman. When do we start? I suppose there is lit- 
tle time to lose, for events get the habit of moving 
rapidly in a case like this.” 

“Perhaps Mrs. Odelman will consent to have him 
over this evening. I can apologize for my lack of 
courtesy a few minutes ago.” 

As Lucia Langmuir left him, the man could see that 
her face was drawn and hard, as he had seen it many 
times before, and that is why he iterated to himself 
that she would not fail him now. Odelman stood and 
watched her go, watched until the girl had reached the 
highest step of the stairway leading into the great 
house; then again he called her back, this time ever 
so softly : 

“Lucia!” 

There was something in- the tone which made the 
girl turn swiftly. It was the more human side of the 
man. For a single moment, perhaps, her lips tightened 
still more, and the light of battle flashed in her eyes. 
Then, as she saw that the man’s face had suddenly 
become drawn and worn, her own features relaxed. 
She stood by the doorway, waiting. 

“Lucia,” he began, “please do not think that I am 
trying to be cruel, or that I am trying to make it hard 
for you. If I am brusque and impatient, it is because 
there is so much at stake ” 

The man broke off meditatively, as though his mind 
was already back with his great stake, whatever it 
might be. As Lucia Langmuir watched, the light in 
her eyes softened still more. This was the work to 
which she was bound by many ties. Why should she 
not make it easier for the man? Markus Odelman, 
glancing up suddenly, saw that question in her eyes, 
and he decided swiftly. 

“The bold course, they say, is the better,” he de- 
clared, with conviction. “I know now our full course, 


108 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


Lucia. You say Benson has left an open trail. Yet, 
at all costs, Merwin must not be frightened away. I 
suppose by this time the house on the Heights is a 
hive of detectives, amateur and otherwise, and what 
this man Inwood has stumbled upon, another may find. 
Would it not seem good tactics, then, Lucia, that we 
should draw their fire a little? We draw their fire, 
and so leave Merwin with an open hand ” 

Again he broke off, this time to laugh softly to him- 
self, and even in the face of Lucia Langmuir there 
was some strange appeal to laughter. 

“Does it not seem absurd,” Odelman resumed, “that 
we, of all people, should be protecting Merwin?” 

This time the girl laughed frankly. 

“There are many compensations in working for your 
cause,” she returned, and her eyes were bright with 
something new which she could see in the future. It 
was always this which had fascinated her, she was tell- 
ing herself, the allurement of playing a role, and just 
now she was catching a glimpse of possibilities which 
left her with a thrill, a little keener, perhaps, than she 
had ever felt before. 

“In some ways it will be painful, Lucia,” Odelman 
went on contemplatively, “to deliberately draw their 
fire will be to cheapen our mysticism.” 

“Perhaps,” the girl assented. “Yet does it not some- 
times appeal to one’s vanity to find what is left in one’s 
path ?” 

“ ’Tis philosophy worth the risking,” Odelman af- 
firmed gravely, and he could see that the girl’s eyes 
were keen with understanding. She turned and. left 
him swiftly. 


X 


It was with a vague suspicion of events, rather than 
of individuals, that Harney Inwood returned to the 
house on the Heights, and he was still dubious as to 
whether or not he should pass along his meager infor- 
mation. He could sense a strange undercurrent 
threading its way through the events which he himself 
had shared, but as yet he had no definite foundation 
for pointing the finger anywhere, or at any man. When 
he came to sum up the results of his forenoon’s work, 
what had he? An uncertain description of the man 
who had acted as the agent of the Unknown Quantity 
at the telegraph office. He had as well the fact that a 
lettergram, which was supposed to have come from 
the Department of State at Washington, had been sent 
from Oakland. At least, he fancied he had that infor- 
mation. What significance that could bear was quite 
beyond him, unless 

Inwood paused in his meditations with a shock of 
surprise. What absurd ideas he was getting, anyway. 
He must shake them off. Yet when he noticed that 
Andre Merwin was among the group of men in 
Rhoades’ den, he knew that for the present at least he 
would keep his views to himself. 

“Any luck this forenoon?” Merwin inquired anx- 
iously, as Inwood joined the group. “They tell me 
you were out scouting around, that you had an idea 
to follow.” 

There was an invitation to confidence in Merwin’s 
109 


110 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


manner, but In wood only stretched himself out lei- 
surely on the divan and beamed upon his questioner. 

“I do sort of recall having an idea/’ Inwood con- 
fessed, “but to tell you the truth, I met a nice lady 
downtown, and that quite knocked everything out of 
my head. It had something to do with an auto, I 
think.” 

Merwin’s manner relaxed. His estimate of Inwood 
had been right ; he was not a man to be reckoned with. 
For any one who, at a time like this, could devote his 
attentions to the opposite sex, lacked that mental con- 
centration which would be necessary to associate Andre 
Merwin or his minions with the happenings of the 
night. The bold course was the better. Merwin had 
played it from the beginning, and he would play it to 
the end. So when he spoke again, his voice smacked 
of sincerity and human sympathy. 

“It really seems to me to be the best thing you could 
do, Rhoades,” he was suggesting. “The telegram you 
received from those hounds conveys a threat, and it 
makes it quite plain that they are not the ones who 
stole the plans. If you do not answer the signal, you 
place yourself open to attack, and no one knows what 
fiendish thing they might do. If you answer the signal, 
you have nothing to lose. After you answer it, they 
will doubtless get in touch with you, somehow, on a 
more friendly basis. You can explain to them what 
has occurred, and perhaps, there is just a chance, you 
know — that — ah, Mr. Dawn, or his men might be able 
to get some track of their next messenger. The idea 
appeals to you, Mr. Dawn?” 

“Couldn’t have been better if I had suggested it my- 
self,” Dawn returned quietly. “There is no occasion 
to expose any one to needless danger. But has it oc- 
curred to you that their intelligence does not need to 
be particularly keen to let them anticipate our course 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


111 


of action, as you have outlined it, Mr. Merwin?” 

“There are difficulties in the way, but it seems 
the only reasonable thing to do,” Merwin returned 
smoothly. “If men would be of any use to you, Mr. 
Dawn, I could let you have Matt Croucher. Our ene- 
mies know by this time that you are on the case. Your 
mere presence in the house has told them that. It is 
just possible that if you and your men could form the 
center of interest, Matt might be able to frame up 
something.” 

Merwin looked anxiously and innocently toward the 
big man in the corner. 

“I ain’t had much to do with crooks,” that individual 
boomed in reply, hesitatingly, as though he scarcely 
knew what was expected of him, “but there’s a couple 
of friends of mine I could get to help.” 

Donegal Dawn rose from his seat quickly, with the 
first trace of enthusiasm which he had yet shown. He 
walked directly across to Croucher and shook his hand 
warmly. 

“I appreciate this more than I can say,” he declared, 
as he accepted the offer frankly. “Now the best thing 
we can do is to get down to the City Hall steps just as 
fast as we can. There are few minutes to spare. In- 
wood, the enemy knows all about you, so you accom- 
pany Rhoades and stand out in the open with him 
while he smokes that cigarette. While the chances of 
seeing who watches for the signal are less than one in 
a thousand in a busy part of the town like that, the 
rest of us will just scatter about and keep our eyes 
open.” 

As the men filed out of the room, Donegal Dawn 
dropped into the background, to light a cigarette, which 
maneuver brought him close to Inwood. 

Dawn stooped quickly, as he whispered : 

“Not a word about that locket, Inwood.” Then a 


112 THE ENEMY WITHIN 

moment later he was out in front, chatting with Andre 
Merwin. 

A few minutes later Rhoades and Inwood stood side 
by side at the appointed place, at the specified hour, as 
might two business men who had paused for a mo- 
ment’s conversation. There was nothing to attract to 
them the attention of the multitude, they were appar- 
ently in the greatest unconcern, and the former was 
smoking a cigarette. 

“The whole thing is terribly absurd,” Inwood was 
saying. “If there was only some one place where a 
person could get a start. What does Dawn think of 
the situation?” 

“If he has any ideas, he keeps them to himself,” 
Rhoades returned, a little impatiently. 

“Well, we can amuse ourselves by seeing how many 
people we know out of the crowds that pass,” Inwood 
replied. “But isn’t it strange? Somehow, I get the 
impression that every person who looks at us has a 
sinister motive in doing so — ah !” 

Inwood’s careless manner was swept away as by a 
whiff of wind. His eyes had grown sharp and beady, 
and a puzzled frown marked his forehead. He was 
leaning slightly forward, staring incredulously, and 
Rhoades, shifting his glance with nervous haste, saw 
that his companion seemed to be watching a handsome 
runabout which was already past them. Beyond the 
fact that it contained a man and a woman, and that 
the general appearance reflected prosperity, Rhoades 
gained no impressions. Least of all could he under- 
stand why Inwood suddenly threw his cigarette from 
him with an angry gesture. 

“You saw something, perhaps,” Rhoades began un- 
certainly. 

Inwood recovered with a start. 

“Just a woman I know,” he returned, with a fair 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


113 


semblance of his old carelessness. “Until to-day, I 
had not seen her for weeks, when she said she was on 
her way to Argentine. You see, it was the surprise of 
finding her here.” 

“Naturally,” Rhoades agreed indifferently. He was 
not interested in the passing fancies of his companion. 
“Well, the time is up, and I have fulfilled my mission. 
I wonder what the next step will be. It was hopeless 
to ever think of catching a watcher in a place like this 
where we can be spied upon from a hundred windows 
and where every passing car is a refuge. However, I 
admit I have had enough excitement for one day, so 
I’ll just drop around to the shops and make sure that 
everything is all right with the sub itself.” 

Without further comment, Rhoades swung about to 
walk down the steps to the street, but before he had 
taken more than a step or two he drew back in aston- 
ishment, and he whispered hoarsely : 

“Look quick, Harney — the stout man in the green 
fedora, at the corner of the building.” 

“What about him ?” Inwood asked calmly. “He has 
been standing there all the time, but so far as I could 
see, he never even looked at us.” 

“Never looked at us,” Rhoades gasped excitedly. 
“Why, he’s the stranger who held us up in the car. 
Make a run for it, Harney, you should catch him.” 

“Now steady down a bit,” Inwood admonished. “I 
think I’ll circle the building and take him from be- 
hind. You just stand here and keep him interested.” 

But even as Inwood spoke, the man in question began 
to move off slowly and unconcernedly towards the 
crowd. 

“Quick, or he’s gone!” Rhoades cried, as he started 
off at a rapid pace. Inwood leaped after him, and he 
could see that though the green-hatted man glanced in 
their direction he did not even quicken his stride. The 


114 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


one-sided race seemed easy. Instead of turning the 
corner to get out of sight, their quarry was crossing 
the street. 

Just how it happened In wood could never be quite 
sure. He only knew that as he and Rhoades stepped 
from the curb side by side they were suddenly checked 
in their ungainly flight by a bicyclist who careened into 
them. Inwood fell at full length, and when he rose to 
his feet he saw that the rider of the wheel was raising 
a great outcry. In another moment the idle curiosity 
of the crowds had circled about them. It was hope- 
less to attempt to break through the mob. Besides, the 
man they sought was nowhere within sight. 

Caught in the rush of morbid spectators, Rhoades 
and Inwood were jostled about for a moment or two, 
until at length a couple of uniformed men forced their 
way through the crush. But when finally they began 
to look around for the cause of the disturbance, the 
noisy rider was gone. And, strangely enough, there 
was no sign of Dawn or Merwin. 

Rhoades and Inwood slipped away from the crowd 
as quickly as possible, and when the younger man 
glanced at his companion he saw that his face was pale 
and his lips were twitching. Rhoades saw the glance, 
and he tried to smile. 

“I must confess I’m afraid, Harney,” he admitted. 
“They’re so devilishly efficient in everything they do. 
Rank amateurs such as we are haven’t a chance with 
them.” 

“Nonsense,” Inwood returned cheerfully. “They’ve 
been planning this thing for months, and ought to 
score a few times at first. Just wait until we get 
started.” 

But the younger man was less optimistic than his 
words would indicate. As a matter of fact, he was 
caught in a strange turmoil of reasoning which left 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


115 


him alternately glad and angered. It was perfectly 
plain that the stout man had exposed himself for some 
definite purpose of his own, which was far more subtle 
than simply that he might enjoy their discomfiture. It 
was for a motive so urgent that he himself had been 
willing to run some risks. When Inwood remembered 
how they had been beaten by the fundamentals of cun- 
ning, he was angered. When he remembered again 
how the appearance of the green-hatted individual neu- 
tralized that unwelcome message which flashed to his 
brain at the sight of the man and the woman in the 
runabout, he was glad. He was intensely glad that 
that quick impression had been but the height of ab- 
surdity. Of course it could have been nothing but 
chance which took Lucia Langmuir and her escort past 
their position at that particular moment. 

But had Inwood been able to follow the wanderings 
of the runabout, he might have had less faith in his 
convictions. He would, at least, have discovered that 
it was the woman’s will which directed their course. 
It was she who asked the driver to stop in front of the 
telegraph office which Inwood had visited earlier in 
the day, and it was she who entered to transact what- 
ever business had taken them there. A moment later 
she returned. 

“Struthers, the night clerk, lives in the South End,” 
she explained. “Do you mind running around to his 
address, Allen?” 

“Do I mind?” he returned, with ill-concealed mean- 
ing. “I only wish it was to the end of the world.” 

“Now you mustn’t talk nonsense, Allen, when I’m 
on duty,” the woman rebuked, but without seriousness. 
“You say such nice funny things, it takes my mind off 
my work.” 

“There are some things I just have to tell you,” 
young Odelman persisted. 


116 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


“Yes, but not every day,” she replied, with a quick 
laugh. “If you will just wait, Allen, until I finish— 
what I happen to be engaged with at present, I will 
let you say all the nice foolish things you like. Just 
now they distract me, but then I’ll let you talk to me 
some day for a full half hour, while I’m writing let- 
ters.” 

“I suppose I’ll have to keep quiet for a while,” the 
young man returned grudgingly, “but it’s the 'way with 
you always. It’s like the old stories we used to read 
about pursuing phantoms — you’re always just a little 
ways out ahead.” 

“Is that a compliment for me, or a knock for your- 
self ?” the woman teased. “But never mind, you dear 
boy, I may have some very important work for you 
shortly, something much more important than driving 
me around and sending queer telegrams.” 

“You know I’ll do anything you ask, no matter how 
foolish it might be.” 

“Brave words,” the woman laughed softly. “It is 
really a fine sentiment, Allen, and if you weren’t quite 
so young I might even be tempted to take you seriously. 
Imagine the shock to your sensibilities if I, four years 
your senior, should suddenly throw myself into your 
arms.” 

“We’d probably run into the curb,” the youth re- 
torted. 

The woman laughed gayly. 

“Good!” she exclaimed. “I knew you’d recover. 
Your attacks of sentiment are such delightfully ephem- 
eral things.” 

“You really are not in a position to judge,” young 
Odelman returned doggedly. “You have never yet 
seen one at the best. You freeze them all in the 
bud.” 

“You poor child,” she sympathized, “what a luxury 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


117 


it must be to nurse a grievance! And all that is left 
to you now is service and silent admiration.” 

The youth shrugged his shoulders and laughed 
freely. 

“Some day when you want sentiment,” he threat- 
ened, “I’ll laugh in your face.” 

“ ’Tis the way with men,” the woman mocked. “But 
fortunately we’re almost there. Do you think Struth- 
ers will be able to resist my charming manner, Allen ?” 

“The poor devil’ll probably gasp out everything he 
knows.” 

“I should think there’s at least one way to reach his 
intelligence,” she concluded, as he turned towards a 
very ordinary house in a very ordinary part of 'the 
city. 

It was a matter of ten minutes or more before she 
returned to take her place in the runabout. Odelman 
looked at her inquiringly. 

“Struthers is mercenary,” she informed ; “extremely 
mercenary. But this is his lucky day. Opportunity 
is knocking, and no one can deny that Struthers is 
grasping all she has to offer.” 

“He’s an unappreciative dog,” the youth declared, 
“or it wouldn’t have cost you any more than a 
smile.” 

“Don’t be too hard on the chap, because he’s quite 
sane,” the woman retorted. “Besides, it wasn’t my 
fault. Mr. Inwood spoiled him with a fair-sized bill.” 

The youth glanced at the woman reproachfully, and 
relapsed into silence. For a time, as they drove to- 
wards the central city, the girl seemed far away from 
him, on a train of thought which he did not care to 
interrupt. At last she shifted her position to look at 
the youth quizzically. 

“I’ve a shock for you,” she announced suddenly. 

“I’m bracing myself,” he returned. “Ready !” 


118 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


“We are about to destroy your distinctive air,” she 
pronounced. “We must powder your eyebrows.” 

“Is it as bad as that ?” he asked. 

“Quite. They make you look like a Turk, and I 
must be careful in the company I choose. I’d fix them 
up here, but people might mistake it for sentiment.” 

For a moment or more young Odelman drove absent- 
mindedly. 

“You mean?” he exclaimed. 

“Of course I do,” the girl retorted. “Why else? 
The man is one of the most intelligent I have ever met, 
though he may never have been provoked into any 
great display of it. He’s coming up to the house soon ; 
perhaps this evening.” 

The youth seemed on the point of rebellion. He 
began to grumble. 

“Now be a good boy,” she coaxed. “You know, you 
must.” 

He sighed, quite hopelessly. 

“Service in your cause is truly a trying one,” he pro- 
tested. 


XI 


The expression which dominated the countenance of 
Andre Merwin could, hardly be expected to increase the 
peace of mind of the satellite who sat just across from 
him. It was the first real opportunity which had come 
to Merwin during the day for freedom of expression, 
and since events had varied somewhat from the course 
of his prescribing, there may have been some excuse 
for the hard, cold gleam in his eyes. At any rate, 
Matt Croucher seemed to regard Merwin’s fixed stare 
as a challenge, or a reflection, he couldn’t be quite sure 
which. Croucher shifted his position nervously, in the 
hope of avoiding the suppressed scorn of the other’s 
manner. 

“I tell you,” Croucher burst out at length, “this run 
of tough luck can’t hold. It’s impossible. It’s against 
the rules of nature.” 

“Luck and brains are synonymous,” Merwin re- 
turned coldly. 

“I can’t be everywhere at once,” Croucher retorted 
truculently, “and I can’t cram brains into other peo- 
ple’s heads. Whose idea was it, anyway, to have Nall- 
far wait in the house until morning? I told you he 
couldn’t put it over.” 

“It wasn’t quite that,” Merwin moderated his man- 
ner. “It was simply because there’s a third party in 
this whom we didn’t count on. Now who are they, 
Matt?” 

With the humanizing tone which had crept into 
119 


120 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


Merwin’s voice, all Croucher’s rebelliousness faded 
away. 

“Whatever happens, Matt, we can’t afford to fall 
out,” Merwin went on more moderately still. “I may 
have been a little brusque a few minutes ago, but I ad- 
mit it must be just as maddening to you as it is to me 
to see everything falling to pieces at the last minute. 
Instead of wasting our time in bickering, we’ve got to 
get together and hold the pieces. Now who’s the third 
party ?” 

“How can I tell you? We don’t even know who’s 
the second party. We know what they call them- 
selves, but that’s all.” 

Merwin reflected for a moment in silence. 

“We’re at least better off than Rhoades and Dawn,” 
he declared, with the hardness returning to his 
voice. 

“We are one turn ahead of them. Where we find 
two parties, they find three, none of them they know. 
And we’re going to keep our distance out in front of 
them. Our association with Rhoades will let us learn 
everything just as fast as they do. We can throw out 
our own men as well and watch our chance, Matt. An 
opening is bound to come sooner or later; it only re- 
mains for us to be ready for it.” 

For a time Merwin paused, as he watched the big 
man shifting uneasily about the room. Croucher, he 
could see, was suffering from restrained activity. He 
was like some huge, uncouth animal too long held in 
leash. As Merwin watched, the lines of his face 
changed, as might the face of a. man who suddenly 
crisps his indecision into action. 

“See here, Matt,” he said briskly, as he pulled a 
cable message from his pocket and spread it out on 
the desk before him, “I heard to-day from the man 
higher up.” 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


121 


Croucher lumbered across the room and stared over 
the other’s shoulder. 

“Well,” the seaman returned doubtfully, “it may 
mean something to you. All I can see is something 
that looks like a code.” 

“It says the man higher up is coming to see us. He 
should be here in a day or two.” 

“When did he go away?” Croucher asked indiffer- 
ently. “I thought Yong Po made his headquarters 
somewhere about here.” 

Andre Merwin turned about in his chair, and he 
fixed such a cold, firm gaze on Croucher that the latter 
drew himself sharply erect. 

“I said the man Higher Up,” Merwin returned 
softly, as he leaned back to measure the effect of his 
words. 

For a time it seemed that Matt Croucher’s wits were 
groping about in the dark. His lips worked spasmodi- 
cally, but there was no sound; his eyes wandered all 
about the room, but they saw nothing. Then he sat 
down heavily and he stared at Andre Merwin as he 
might at some natural curiosity. He seemed for a 
time fascinated by the more nimble brain of the other. 

“What do you mean?” he blurted out at last. “They 
ain’t no man higher up.” 

“It would seem that you are mistaken,” Merwin re- 
turned complacently. 

“Yong Po’s it,” Croucher insisted. “He’s the man 
we deal with*” 

“It becomes apparent that you are laboring under a 
misapprehension,” the other replied blandly. “It is 
just possible that when you and I started our negoti- 
ations I may have overlooked bringing this little detail 
to your attention ; but the point is quite immaterial. I 
only told you in order that you might help prepare for 
our visitor. He is of such distinguished personage 


122 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


that his visit must necessarily be made under peculiar 
circumstances. At least so Yong Po says.” 

Croucher’s brain was still laboring, trying to fit 
this new fact into his scheme of things. 

“Then who’s Yong Po?” he demanded. 

“The agent, he tells me,” Merwin replied amiably. 

“And who’s the man higher up?” Croucher per- 
sisted. 

Andre Merwin inhaled a long breath of smoke from 
his cigarette, and he leaned still farther back in his 
chair. For a long time his eyes were all but closed, 
but through the narrowed slits he was studying his 
companion shrewdly. Should he answer that question 
frankly ? 

After a time he pulled himself together with a shrug 
of his shoulders. No, it was not time to tell even Matt 
Croucher. 

“That’s the question, Matt,” he returned, in a puz- 
zled tone. “But what can it matter to us ? Perhaps a 
little more gain, perhaps a little less. But millions, 
anyway.” 

Croucher’s brain was slowly emerging from the fog 
into which Merwin’s announcement had thrust it. He 
was ready now to feel his way to the shore. 

“We thought we were going to turn this invention, 
this war device, over to the Chinese,” he said slowly, 
“with whom we have no quarrel, with whom we are 
never likely to have one. There must be some big peo- 
pl, some country, perhaps, back of Yong Po?” 

“I haven’t the least doubt of it,” Merwin returned 
equably. “But whoever it is, we are in too deep now 
to pull out.” 

“Then it means,” Croucher went on, “that some 
country other than the Chinese will get Rhoades’ in- 
vention, if we carry through our part of the bargain?” 

“It is just possible,” Merwin agreed lightly, “but 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


123 


fortunately neither of us is troubled with qualms. We 
are the broad-minded visionaries of the world, great 
enough to see the dawn of the age when diplomacy and 
intelligence and foresight will be the ruling factors. 
We will be able to say that we, with our philanthropic 
love of mankind, have been able to advance that age. 
Come, Matt. I, who am in it deeper than you, who 
have more to lose, am not questioning who or what is 
at the other end of our stream of gold.” 

“And it was just yesterday I was reading,” Croucher 
went on, as though his brain could trace down but one 
thought at a time, “that we are about to dedare war, 
within a week, at the most. Could it be possible, 
Andre, that it is our enemy who is at the other end?” 

Andre Merwin rose to his feet, and for the sake of 
the effect he might create, he paced the room slowly. 
But his eyes never left the mobile face of Matt 
Croucher. Merwin must study his man, must watch 
the moment to strike. 

“And if it is?” he exclaimed suddenly; then he 
leaned over and whispered in Croucher’s ear. “What 
have we to do with war ? Except that it may make or 
lose us each a million or more.” 

Croucher’s eyes narrowed for a moment in anger. 
Then something far different seemed to break through 
the rift of things and find its lodgment in Croucher’s 
brain. The long, straight lines of his mouth sagged 
again, and his eyes became abruptly full of the shadow 
of laughter. He was again totally indifferent to any 
aspect or sentiment of the world except that which 
touched him personally. 

Merwin stole a swift glance at him, and pondered. 
If the big man had been acting, it was consummately 
done; but Croucher lacked the intelligence for that. 
Merwin made his decision rapidly. 

“I think you are taking the right viewpoint, Matt,” 


124 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


he encouraged. “I myself cannot but regret the pos- 
sibility of the man Higher Up being an agent for our 
enemies. If Yong Po had mentioned it in time, I 
would have withdrawn entirely, but now it is quite too 
late.” 

Croucher yawned and stretched his great limbs pro- 
digiously. 

“Scruples, bah,” he agreed lazily. “You’re always 
right, Andre. I just like to get things straight in my 
mind, for the sake of my conscience, then I can wipe 
them all off with one stroke. It sort of saves trouble 
in the end. But ain’t we counting up the spoof too 
soon? What’s happened to the plans?” 

“We’ll get them back,” Merwin declared confidently. 
“If not, there is still the submarine itself. We may 
have to pull off something rather spectacular, Matt, 
for the sake of the man Higher Up ; but we are bound 
to win in the end.” 

Croucher nodded. 

“You know there are some of our men among 
Rhoades’ guards,” Merwin reminded. 

“But it’s time that counts,” Croucher suggested un- 
easily. “We might never get the plans back, and it’s 
war within the week, unless I’m way out in my reck- 
oning.” 

Andre Merwin stepped closer, with a mysterious air. 

“So much the better,” he said, barely above a whis- 
per. 

“I don’t quite get you,” Croucher returned. 

“If it’s to be war, the enemy will be all the more 
keen for our implements of destruction. Particularly 
do submarines interest them. If the worst came to 
the worst, they would see a machine like Rhoades’ 
wrecked before they would leave it in the hands of 
their enemy. Don’t you understand, Matt ? The mere 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


125 


destruction of the machine means luxury for life. And 
we have our men among the guards !” 

“As I’ve said before, Andre, you’re a bird,” Croucher 
leaned back, with admiration shining from every seam 
of his countenance, but there was something in his 
tone which Merwin had never heard before. 

“But we won’t count on that except as a last resort,” 
he went on doggedly. “We’ll deliver the plans, if we 
can get them. If not, it’ll be the sub itself, even if we 
have to fight for it. And, Matt, if it’s war, we’ll dou- 
ble the price.” 

“You’re a bird,” Croucher reiterated, and Merwin, 
looking closely, saw only the fawning of admiration. 
Yes, it was quite safe to continue. 

“Is the yacht ready ?” Merwin asked suddenly. 

“Take to sea on a moment’s notice,” Croucher re- 
turned, but his eyes were twinkling with curiosity. 

“The mysterious agent, whoever he may be, seems 
to be a very nervous person,” Merwin explained. 
“That’s the reason he’s used Yong Po to cover up 
with. He’s a keen customer, who doesn’t leave any 
tracks behind him, so keen that I don’t suppose there 
is any man in the world who could trace the connec- 
tion between us and him. To be quite frank, Matt, 
I’ve never seen him myself. But he isn’t the kind to 
take any chances, so Yong Po says he is to step in at 
the last minute. He refuses to come to the city, Matt.” 

Croucher nodded knowingly. 

“The yacht,” he suggested. 

“Rather my island in the sea,” Merwin returned 
quietly. 

When Croucher glanced up quickly, there could be 
no doubt as to the motive. 

“Andre, you see into the future farther than the 
devil himself,” he chuckled to himself as softly as 


126 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


conditions would permit. “So our friend will make 
the island his headquarters, and we will deliver — 
whatever we have to deliver — to him there? It’s a 
great scheme ; the island is well provisioned. If we 
are slow, he can wait there. Everybody knows you 
make week-end trips down there, and have all sorts 
of guests. What a head you have, Andre, what a 
head ! But how is he to arrive ?” 

“That I do not know. Yong Po will look after that. 
Probably a strange ship will stand off the island at 
night. But you may be sure there will be nothing to 
direct the slightest suspicion to us. As to the yacht 
itself, Matt, I have left you to pick the crew. You 
know how unfortunate it might be if even one care- 
lessly picked hand should get aboard. There is no 
use attempting to disguise the fact that we have ene- 
mies. Who they are, I don’t know. But if they are 
as resourceful as would seem, one of their first moves 
would be to plant a man among your crew. Our first 
taste of the Unknown Quantity shows that they have 
been watching Rhoades for a long time. To what ex- 
tent they have accepted me in the same good faith 
that Rhoades has, is something we cannot estimate. 
Perhaps they already have a man among your crew, 
Matt?” 

The big man shook his head ponderously, but con- 
fidently. 

“Not a chance of it,” he declared, with conviction. 
“There’s not a man there that I haven’t known for 
years.” 

“Then perhaps among the island guard ?” 

“There’s only two of them, and they’re the most 
trusty men in the lot,” Croucher affirmed. “Besides, 
suppose they had planted a man on us six weeks ago, 
or even last week, what would they have learned? 
Not a thing. All they would see is an ordinary little 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


127 


island out in the sea, so rocky that nobody else would 
even look at, but which happens to strike your fancy. 
If they’ve been watching us all summer, they wouldn’t 
have seen anything out of the ordinary; just a few 
week-end trips with well-known business men as your 
guests. Everything open and aboveboard. Even the 
guards don’t know they’re guards ; they think they’re 
caretakers. Why, Andre, I’ve been running your 
yacht down to that island for a year, and it never 
struck me once that it had anything to do with — the 
big scheme.” 

Merwin’s eyes brightened with pleasure. 

“I thought I did it very well,” he conceded mod- 
estly. 

“Now don’t pull any more of that artistic stuff,” 
Croucher broke in, with loud laughter, which somehow 
communicated itself to the other. 


XII 


For a long time Cheever Rhoades had been pacing 
about the library-living room in hectic nervousness. 
Then at last he paused before the open French window 
and looked down over the slope of the city and its 
waters about. A gray scud of cumulus cloud was fly- 
ing across the sky, and through its rifts the sun 
splashed gay spots of silver upon the blue groundwork 
of the Bay. A ferry was plodding its way through 
the bed of blue, its decks dotted with people, a tramp 
steamer was nosing out towards the Golden Gate, a 
liner was just showing its funnels through the cleav- 
age of hills — the whole world was its old careless, 
happy self, except just here, where Fate seemed to 
have picked up the threads and tangled them in aban- 
don. Surely it could not be possible that he, who little 
more than a day ago had been one of the most prosaic 
and inoffensive of men, was now the vortex around 
which the acquisitive passions of the world were 
whirling. 

Yet when he turned and tried to shake it from him, 
there were the others, sitting in a little cluster, watch- 
ing. Then he looked at his hand, and seemed startled. 
For it was still clutching a sheet of paper which it had 
crushed some time ago. Rhoades held his hand out 
at full length, and stared again. That crumpled sheet 
of paper was another tangible evidence of the power, 
the shrewdness and the cunning of the people whom 
he was now forced to call his enemies. 

128 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


129 


“They must have slipped it in my pocket during the 
crush at noon,” he concluded, as though quite unable 
to get beyond the rudiments of things. 

“We are all quite agreed on that point,” Merwin 
insinuated softly, “but we are not making much head- 
way in our plans to — er — ah— trap them.” 

Donegal Dawn looked at him in a baffling way. 

“You really think it would be quite wise to attempt 
it, Mr. Merwin?” he asked, more as though studying 
Merwin than the problem. 

“And why not ?” Merwin demanded, in what seemed 
like righteous anger. “Here is a dastardly attempt to 
defraud Mr. Rhoades. Why should we, his friends, 
not resort to extreme measures?” 

“Then you do not take them seriously, these other 
people?” Dawn inquired easily. “They have fine words 
of warning at the end of their message. Just let me 
see the note, Mr. Rhoades. So this is what they say : 
‘The only safe course is to play the game with us 
fairly. We have no doubt that you or some of your 
hired trackers will attempt to learn our identity. We 
have made provisions for that. You are at perfect 
liberty to follow our messenger, if you can. But any 
attempt to lay hands upon him, or detain him by force, 
will be resented. The first man who puts hands upon 
him will be shot dead. While he may seem to be 
alone, he has friends ; and, remember, it is we who have 
chosen the place of meeting/ ” 

Donegal Dawn looked up and studied the face of 
Andre Merwin curiously. 

“You do not take them seriously?” he insisted. 

“They may be serious enough; but this should be a 
case of wits,” Merwin retorted, for somehow the 
other’s quiet manner nettled him. “Rhoades finds a 
peremptory note in his pocket, telling him to meet the 
representative of the Unknown Quantity at a definite 


130 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


place at the tick of midnight. He has answered their 
signal, so they take it for granted he is ready to nego- 
tiate. We know the place already, for, thank good- 
ness, they’ve been positive enough about that, and a 
lonely enough hole it is, out on the Bay past San 
Rafael.” 

“Quite lonely enough for them to shoot any man who 
interfered with their messenger,” Dawn suggested. 

“What I was going to ask is, why shouldn’t we run 
out this afternoon, look over the ground, and post a 
squad of your men at dusk?” 

“I wouldn’t do that,” Dawn returned dryly. “These 
people are not crooks ; they’re rather above the ordi- 
nary type of intelligence.” 

Strangely enough, Merwin subsided instantly, with- 
out battling for his point. Yet there was a cold, clear 
gleam in his eyes, and his gaze was fixed upon Matt 
Croucher. The latter came to himself with a start, 
and, as was his custom, rose and stretched his limbs 
carelessly. 

“Well, if that’s settled,” he rumbled, “I’ll go get the 
launch ready for midnight. We’ll use the one from 
the yacht, Mr. Dawn? You said, you didn’t want to 
use the police boat?” 

Dawn nodded his approval. And in the eyes of 
Merwin there was further approval. There were 
times, he was telling himself, when Croucher showed 
a flash of brilliancy. 

Donegal Dawn watched the departure of the big 
man with slow, speculative eyes, yet when he turned 
again to Merwin his features were cold and expres- 
sionless. 

“A very capable man you have there, Merwin,” he 
commented, in a detached way. “If you don’t mind, 
I rather think you had better turn him over to me for 
to-night. But we all seem to have made up our minds 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


131 


on this affair without consulting Mr. Rhoades. What 
do you say, Rhoades; do you see any other way than 
to respond to that summons at midnight?” 

“It seems the only thing ; but where will it lead us ?” 

Dawn laughed softly, and perhaps it was only chance 
that his eyes wandered over to Merwin. 

“Who knows?” he returned evasively. “Unless 
perhaps Mr. Merwin has some one in mind clever 
enough to follow the messenger.” 

“I was thinking rather of your men,” Merwin re- 
turned hastily. 

“The force is small enough as it is,” Dawn replied, 
with a shrug of his shoulders. “But if you, perhaps, 
or Croucher, know any one who would care to take 
the risks. I think I remember Croucher saying some- 
thing about a man or two he could get to help him out. 
But of course I am not even suggesting it. I am 
simply implying that if you should know any person 
foolish enough to take the risks, I would not object. 
As for the rest of us, we walk circumspectly on the 
enemy’s ground. What say you, Inwood?” 

“If it’s all the same to you, I don’t think I’ll try 
anything more risky than shadowing our friend, the 
messenger,” the latter returned lightly. “Even at that, 
I’m afraid I’d make so much noise assuring him I had 
no intention of laying hands on him that my chances 
of success would be open to doubt.” 

“The fabric of which heroes are made,” Merwin 
laughed. “Well, I think I’ll slip along, and I warn 
you, Dawn, I may take up that suggestion of yours. It 
rather appeals to me to shame the police. I’ll leave 
Cheever to figure out what he’s to say to our mysteri- 
ous messenger.” 

“Just what am I to do?” Rhoades appealed to Dawn, 
a little anxiously. 

“Tell him exactly what’s happened, and stall,” Dawn 


132 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


returned carelessly. “The occasion will be of value to 
us chiefly from its unknown possibilities.” 

“Then you have a scheme ?” Merwin inquired 
quickly. 

“I was thinking of you,” Dawn smiled enigmatically. 

Andre Merwin turned away quite nonplused, and 
with a little bridling of anger. For once, he felt he 
had met a man who would be worth the full measure 
of his wits, a man who was as vague and indetermi- 
nate as himself, as secretive and as gifted with fore- 
sight, who masked his real actions behind an air of 
idleness. 

And Donegal Dawn, in his turn, stood by the win- 
dow and watched Andre Merwin go. He stood idly 
contemplative, as might a man whose judgment and 
inclinations are at variance. At length, as Merwin 
passed out of view, Dawn turned about with a non- 
committal shrug. 

“An admirable fellow, that, Rhoades,” he com- 
mented. 

“He has been wonderfully kind to me,” Rhoades re- 
turned, with feeling. “Is quite neglecting his own 
business, and I haven’t the least doubt he will sacrifice 
his own affairs until this thing is cleared up.” 

As Rhoades paused, he saw a queer, baffling smile 
at the corners of Donegal Dawn’s lips. 

“Why do you look at me like that?” Rhoades de- 
manded. “Dawn, you’re getting on my nerves. You 
say nothing, but the way you look almost makes me 
suspect myself of something hideous. You don’t 
think, do you, that we’re putting something over you ?” 

“You forget that Longley is evidence that you are 
not.” 

“I think he reads the souls of men at a glance,” In- 
wood put in. 

“This Merwin is a fine chap,” Dawn reflected, pretty 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


133 


much to himself. “Everybody knows Andre. Seems 
to me he’s the fellow who hates to be called ‘Honest 
John.’ Well, this isn’t getting anywhere, and time is 
precious. If it was only somebody else but Andre 
Merwin, judgment would not seem such a reckless 
thing. Inwood, care to come downtown with me? 
Rhoades, you’ll not be needed until ten o’clock to-uight ; 
better settle down and get your nerves in better shape.” 

In spite of Dawn’s references to the value of time, 
he showed no inclination to hurry, once he and Inwood 
left the house. He suggested that they walk a few 
blocks, and for some distance they strolled along in 
silence, smoking. 

“Rather fastidious in your brand of cigarettes,” 
Dawn suggested. Then, as though struck by a sudden 
decision, he added hastily : “Just how big a thing is 
this, Inwood? You’re a young man of keen judg- 
ment.” 

“It’s quite beyond me,” Inwood returned. “You re- 
member, I was suddenly pitched into it at six o’clock 
this morning, and all I’ve seen since then is a number 
of tangled ends which do not fit in anywhere. I may 
have made a number of hasty observations, but I have 
seen nothing which would lead me to believe there is 
more in it than shows on the surface. Theft on the 
one hand, fanaticism on the other. Rhoades, however, 
think's there is something big in the background.” 

Already Harney Inwood was beginning to resent 
certain facts, to struggle against the vague impressions 
which were growing up in his mind concerning the 
Odelmans. That was a phase of the problem which 
he would gladly close forever, if such were possible; 
but there was a fascination in following those theories 
which he could not resist, for any role which entan- 
gled the Odelmans caught Lucia Langmuir in the same 
net. So Inwood felt a touch of anger to think he 


134 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


dare not express to Donegal Dawn his full views. 
There even flashed, across his mind the involuntary 
thought that, perhaps before the end of it all, he might 
be sorely tempted to screen the enemies of Cheever 
Rhoades. But Inwood thrust the thought from him, 
with a determination to follow that uncertain clew a 
little longer, in the hope that it would prove his hasty 
conclusions to be false. So he added, 

“You agree with Rhoades, perhaps?” 

For a moment Dawn smoked in silence, and when he 
looked again at Inwood his eyes were filled with the 
mystery of knowledge. 

“I speak to you in confidence, because I rely on your 
discretion,” he returned quietly. “If I mistake not, 
Inwood, we have picked up the ragged ends of a 
plot which stretches across the continent, more than 
that, which reaches around the world. It is big, 
Inwood ; so big that it makes me tremble to think 
what it may mean if we fail. It touches national in- 
trigue. It is a part of the plot for the conquest of 
the world ” 

Donegal Dawn stopped abruptly, and Inwood, steal- 
ing a quick glance at him, saw that his eyes were keen 
and piercing with a great light, and yet, at the same 
time, they were troubled with a great fear. There was 
something in the man’s manner which left Inwood im- 
pressed and vaguely apprehensive, he hardly knew 
why. There was something which recalled to his mind 
all the uncertain stories that Dawn was himself a fa- 
natic. A fanatic in what? 

Dawn pulled himself together, and laughed easily. 

“It is one of my moods,” he said lightly. “But not 
a word of this, Inwood, even to Rhoades. Least of 
all to Merwin. I dare not tell you more, for I may 
be wrong. But whether right or wrong, I may need 
you soon. And that reminds me, what I really wanted 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


135 


to ask you was as to the locket. You found it — 
where ?” 

“In the library. I just happened to strike it with 
my foot. Does it tell you anything, Dawn?” 

“You mean before any of the others were called?” 

“Yes; but what has that to do with it?” Inwood de- 
manded, in wonder. 

“It was not lying in plain sight when you entered?” 
Dawn persisted. 

“I think not, or I would remember seeing it at first. 
But why all this mystery?” 

“Would it surprise you if I was to tell you that 
locket was left there, deliberately, in the hope that it 
would reach me?” 

Inwood stopped abruptly. For a moment he studied 
Dawn carefully, but seeing no signs of levity in the 
other’s manner, he shook his head in amazement. 

“I don’t think anything you could do would really 
surprise me,” he declared. “But now that you have 
given a fillip to my curiosity, are you going to sat- 
isfy it?” 

“Only partly,” Dawn replied. “Please excuse me, 
if I seem absurd, and try to remember that I do few 
things without a motive. I want an unbiased judg- 
ment, quite independent of my own, and I have 
chosen you because I believe you are the most apt 
to give it. People say it is one of my peculiarities. 
As to the locket, you remember it contained a mes- 
sage.” 

“A cipher. So Rhoades fancied. You have been 
able to read it?” 

“It was one of those codes known extensively among 
the police. One which it is quite impossible to read 
without knowing the key word, but which is only a 
matter of patience once you have the key word. If 
one hasn’t the key, he tries everything which he fancies 


136 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


might fit the occasion. In this case, it happened to be 
the word ‘locket.’ ” 

A ray of light was beginning to reach to Inwood’s 
brain. 

“So you think that because it was made compara- 
tively simple for a police official, and difficult for an- 
other man, it must have been intended for you ?” 

“Perhaps,” Dawn conceded. “But here is the trans- 
lation.” 

Inwood took the paper which Dawn offered, looked 
through it, then glanced suddenly up, with a puzzled 
frown seaming his forehead. 

“Read it,” Dawn prompted. 

“It says,” Inwood returned mechanically, “ ‘The en- 
emy within is more dangerous than the foe without. 
He who acts hastily often misses the greater prize.’ ” 

Inwood fumbled the sheet for a minute or more, 
seeking to find some recondite meaning among the 
words. Then abruptly the worried lines straightened 
out of his forehead, and he made as though to speak 
eagerly. 

Dawn stopped him with a gesture. 

“Any judgment you could give now,” he warned, 
“would be premature and inconclusive. It is a matter on 
which one should avoid hasty judgment. That is why 
I am asking for yours, perhaps, to destroy my own.” 

Donegal Dawn turned as though to leave him ; then 
he turned back again. 

“In the meantime,” he resumed, “whatever a man 
may suspect is best harbored in his own brain.” 

With that, Dawn left him standing by the curb. 
Already Inwood’s brain was searching for the hidden 
meaning. The man stood there, with the paper in his 
hand, until the passers-by looked upon him curiously, 
but the nearer he came to a decision the more obscure 
became the motive. 


XIII 


Just a little of the boyishness had been driven out of 
Harney Inwood’s face and manner by the past few 
hours. There was just enough of it gone to leave his 
features a little firmer, while in the set of his shoul- 
ders there was a trace of obstinacy. His retreat to 
his own house on Van Ness could not be taken as any 
evidence of weakness or defeat. He had rather re- 
quired a little seclusion to convince himself it was not 
all an evil dream. 

Now, after a brief rest and quiet, he felt better. 
While no nearer to a solution of the problem which 
had fallen upon them, as it were, out of a clear sky, he 
did at least feel that his brain was some clearer. It 
was clear enough to tell him there was a very painful 
theory which required attention. It was one which, 
for his own peace of mind, he dare not ignore, yet at 
the same time it meant a firm grip upon himself if he 
was not to weaken. 

Just who were the Odelmans? The question had 
never troubled him during their two sea voyages, 
though he must admit the Odelmans had occupied a 
very small niche of his brain during those periods. 
Yet when he came to think of the matter carefully, he 
could not recall a single word which had ever been 
dropped to form even an impression in his mind as to 
the part they might be playing in the world. Or, 
rather, had he not formed the idea that they were not 
playing any part, that they were independently wealthy, 


138 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


and spent their time wandering from point to point of 
the globe? It was quite plain that a few weeks ago 
they had intended to visit Argentine. He had seen 
them leave Honolulu for that purpose. Yet they had 
suddenly returned to San Francisco! And yet they 
had seemed the most leisurely people in the world. 
Could their sudden appearance in the city be in any 
way connected with the queer happenings of the past 
few hours? He had no reason to believe it, except 
for a few jagged ends of theory which reached no- 
where. As a matter of fact, he told himself he did 
not want to believe it. He told himself it was only an 
absurd coincidence which had taken Lucia Langmuir, 
and her companion, who doubtless was Allen Odel- 
man, past their signaling point at noon. Yet the girl’s 
manner was strange. And Dawn had hinted at huge 
interests being involved. Argentine ! If only he had 
paid a little more attention to international politics and 
a little less to sport, the word might carry to him some 
significance. Then there was that veiled message of 
the locket; the summons which had been thrust into 
Rhoades’ pocket during the crush at noon ! He threw 
out his arms as though to brush aside a web. 

To Inwood, there seemed to be interests and coun- 
ter interests pulling in a hundred different ways. The 
more he attempted to puzzle it out, the more tangled 
he became. Who was the woman who took the plans ? 
Or had the dark man lied? Was there a woman at 
all? 

In wood rose to his feet with a gesture of helpless- 
ness, as might a man who finds himself overwhelmed 
by circumstances. He must have action. He felt that 
unless he had action, he would become quite crazed. 
Thank fortune, he had one thread to follow. 

On the spur of the moment, In wood decided to at- 
tach to himself an allied worker. He stepped to the 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


139 


’phone and called up police headquarters. The official 
at the other end regretted that Benton Longley was 
not in. He was to report at seven. Yes, he would 
leave a very particular message for Longley to meet 
the gentleman at the office. 

That left Inwood with an hour on his hands, and 
nothing to do but think the thoughts he was trying to 
avoid. For a few minutes he idled about his rooms, 
affecting an air of indifference. Then he stopped 
abruptly. 

He would see Struthers again. He would drive 
Struthers around, and devise some plan to give him a 
glimpse of Allen Odelman. That might straighten out 
one identity. If young Odelman was the blond man 
with dark eyebrows who sent the message 

But it occupied more time than Inwood had antici- 
pated. He had quite overlooked the fact that he must 
first drive to the telegraph office to learn Struthers’s 
address. Once in that untidy part of the city, he found 
his impatience returning. He was himself again. He 
was admitted by a nondescript woman who must have 
been Struthers’ landlady and who called blithely up 
the stairs. 

Inwood had scarcely seated himself before he saw 
Struthers, in deshabille, peering over the balustrade. 
But it was such a different Struthers that Inwood could 
only stare back in amazement. His face was livid, 
almost as colorless as a dead man’s, and his lips were 
twitching fearfully. 

“Thank Heaven, it’s only you!” Struthers gasped, 
in evident relief. “Come up.” 

Inwood, somewhat alarmed, lost no time in obeying 
the suggestion. When he followed the night clerk into 
his room, he saw that he was trembling like a leaf, and 
there were blue lines about his lips. Inwood studied 
him for a moment, speechless. 


140 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


“I’m terribly glad it’s only you,” the clerk said, with 
a suggestion of returning color. 

“Why, Struthers, I believe you’re actually afraid, 
for you’re not sick,” Inwood returned, as he searched 
the other’s face for the answer. 

“I’m afraid of my life,” the clerk replied, as steadily 
as he could. 

Harney Inwood sat down slowly, a little dazedly. 
Life, he was telling himself, had become too complex. 
No, this must be some trick of the fancy. Yet, when 
he looked more closely, there could be no doubt that 
Struthers was in mortal terror. 

“Nonsense, Struthers,” he returned, after he had 
taken time to get a firm grip on himself. “This day 
sleeping does not agree with you. You have had a 
bad dream.” 

“Dream, nothing!” the clerk flashed back, with some 
show of spirit. “There’s the message. Read it for 
yourself. And when the old lady called, I sort of 
thought they’d come for me.” 

Inwood picked up the message indicated, a careless 
scrawl on a plain sheet of paper ; concise, and leaving 
no room for doubt: “You talk too much about the 
affairs of customers. If you place the least value on 
a continued existence, you will say no more,” was all 
it said. 

Struthers took it from Inwood’s fingers with a touch 
of pride. He had become the center of interest. Then 
as Inwood. looked, he seemed seized with another fit 
of fear. 

“You must go at once !” he pleaded, trying to shove 
his visitor toward the door. “Perhaps it is too late. 
What if they have already seen you here!” 

Struthers was white again to the lips, and there was 
real terror in his manner. 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


141 


“Now who the dickens do you mean by ‘they’?” In- 
wood demanded, a bit sharply. 

“I don’t know. But you mustn’t be seen here. You 
must go at once.” 

There never could have been anything heroic about 
Struthers. He was not only sallow, but he was under- 
sized, and seemed undernourished. Inwood felt keenly 
sympathetic, but he could not go just yet. 

“Now sit down, Struthers,” he instructed. “Try 
one of these cigarettes. It’ll tone you up. Now tell 
me all about it.” 

“It’s all very well for you,” the clerk grumbled; 
“you’re not in any danger. It’s because I told you 
what I did this morning that I’m in for it.” 

“Then I’m in it with you,” Inwood assured him. 

Struthers brightened perceptibly. It was very reas- 
suring to have a man of Inwood’s proportions sharing 
his burdens, and showing no signs of fear. 

“Some one has objected, perhaps,” Inwood prompt- 
ed. “And has taken this absurd way to do it.” 

“It was a woman, I think,” the night clerk pondered 
his problem. “At least, a woman called at noon, and 
wanted to know what you had asked me, and what I 
had told ” 

“It would be, perhaps, ten or fifteen minutes after 
twelve?” Inwood suggested. Struthers nodded. 

“And she was wonderfully neat, and has dark blue 
eyes which look clear into you. Dark hair with a 
toiich of brown, and the trimmest figure you will see 
on Market Street?” Inwood pressed. 

“Perhaps,” Struthers considered; “I’m sure it must 
be the one. They came in a roadster ” 

“You saw the man ?” Inwood demanded, so abruptly 
that Struthers was on the verge of another relapse. 

“Just his back when they drove away. I looked 


142 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


through the window,” the clerk returned. Then, see- 
ing that Inwood had lost interest in the man, he con- 
tinued: “She asked a lot of questions.” 

“And you answered them all,” Inwood sighed. 

“Not a thing did I tell her about you,” Struthers 
protested; but he was so devoid of cleverness in the 
art of deception that Inwood did not press the point. 

“And just an hour ago the old lady found this mes- 
sage on a table in the hallway,” the clerk continued. 
“No one else had been in the house since.” 

For some reason which he did not attempt to explain 
even to himself, Inwood found himself abruptly seized 
with an unaccountable fit of anger. What right had 
this little, half-starved clerk to cast reflections on a 
woman he did not know? Inwood’s eyes flashed an- 
grily. With one look at him, Struthers turned and all 
but collapsed. 

“You’re not one of them?” he cried, looking vainly 
about for some place to flee. 

“Of course not,” Inwood returned gruffly. “I’m 
just an ordinary fool. You’ve done no more than tell 
me what I came to learn. No, Struthers, I’m with you. 
Here’s my card; but keep it out of sight. If you 
should need a friend in a hurry, you’ll find the ’phone 
number there. Now I must be going, but if I were in 
your position I wouldn’t be alarmed over that message. 
I’d just take their advice.” 

By consulting his watch, Inwood discovered that he 
had little time to spare if he was to meet Benton Long- 
ley at the hour appointed ; but once seated in the road- 
ster he found very little to be thankful for in his new 
discoveries. What before had been a doubt had now 
become a fixed conviction. He felt that he was as rea- 
sonably sure as any man needed to be as to the identity 
of one of their enemies, and yet that knowledge left 
him with a dull, burning pain. For a time, in his own 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


113 


depression, he had quite forgotten his bond to Cheever 
Rhoades, or any other duty he might owe. ,And the 
course of his investigations had been so simple. Any 
ordinarily intelligent man might have picked up the 
same threads and followed them to the same conclu- 
sions. 

For an instant that left him startled. What if Don- 
egal Dawn or Andre Merwin should find the same 
clew ? Then an involuntary wave of thankfulness swept 
over him, with the memory that he had been first and 
that the terror of Struthers had cut all bridges behind 
them. A flush suddenly raddled his cheeks, though 
he 'was alone. Here was he, Harney Inwood., within 
a few hours of a great burglary which some declared 
was aimed at his own country more than at any indi- 
vidual, conspiring in his own mind to protect those 
whom he already believed had shared in it! Or, if 
they had not shared in it actively, they had plotted to 
the same end. The man's face worked spasmodically. 
It was a greater problem than he had ever thought to 
face. 

Then across his mind there flashed the message of 
the locket. Yes, he was acting hastily, forming his 
judgments on the first chain of circumstances which 
presented themselves. He must walk more care- 
fully. Yet there was something in the set of his 
jaw which declared he would spare no one, not even 
himself. 

Inwood was his gay young self again by the time he 
drove up to police headquarters. 

“A bit patched, but still in the ring,” he greeted 
Longley lightly, for the latter was on the steps, wait- 
ing. 

“It isn’t a patch to what will happen to yon dark one 
if ever I set eyes on him,” Longley returned, quite 
pleased with his own witticism. “But why the honor 


144 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


of this visit, Mr. Inwood? Most people would say 
my success last night qualified me as a dead one.” 

“Then I’m a resurrectionist,” Inwood eyed his man 
shrewdly. “And as a reward for my labors, I find 
that back of your bruised skull there is a brain thirst- 
ing for revenge, and behind your indifferent eyes I 
see a smouldering fire. Come, Longley, old chap, 
what do you say if we double up on this? I’m quite 
serious about it. I’d like to pal up with somebody I 
can rely upon. I have ideas of my own I’d like to 
follow, and Dawn tells me you are a free lance on this. 
We’d probably work well together.” 

The plainclothes man seemed flattered by the sug- 
gestion of such an alliance. As a matter of fact, his 
associates on the force had been less charitable than 
Donegal Dawn, for though an attempt was made to 
hush up the story, the intelligence of Enson and Web- 
ster had proved of that type which must voice itself. 
So Longley had been the buffer of many crude jests. 
He was now quite eager to reestablish his repu- 
tation. 

“You’re on,” he agreed readily. “But if you haven’t 
any better ideas than I have, we’re not apt to get far. 
Here I’ve been walking the streets all day, thinking I 
might get an eye on one of the bunch that nicked me 
down below, but that’s poor stuff.” 

“Worse than that, Longley,” Inwood rebuked him 
good-naturedly. “Why don’t you know that bats never 
fly by day? Well, I’ll supply some ideas to start 
with ” 

Inwood paused, and he turned to size up his man 
shrewdly. After all, Longley must not be allowed to 
rampage too intimately with his one theory. 

“Longley,” he resumed, and his tone had become 
suddenly serious, “are you of that type which can la- 
bor and wait for reward? Nor do you jump to hur- 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


115 


ried conclusions? What I mean is, I’m not going to 
tell you any of my absurd views.” 

“As a rule, I couldn’t touch a case like that,” the 
plainclothes man returned; “but this seems to be dif- 
ferent. I guess I can keep my eyes just as wide open 
when I’m around with you as when I’m alone, so if I 
can be of any use to you ” 

“And anything you and I may learn is ours alone, 
until I give the word,” he continued. 

Longley hesitated. 

“Oh, I don’t mean I’m going to try to grab off any 
of the honors, if there are any,” Inwood resumed hast- 
ily. “If there is any glory, you get it all, Longley, to 
the last drop.” 

That won him. Longley’s eyes were already 
brighter, as he agreed. 

“Now that we understand each other, let’s get 
started,” Inwood continued. “Can you drive a car? 
If so, I’m thinking of taking a chauffeur. In old age 
we must break down the rules of youth.” 

The officer smiled knowingly. 

“Good idea,” he suggested. 

“And you have no objection to wearing a beautiful 
gap with nice white braid?” Inwood bantered. 

“I’d do anything to get even with those blokes,” 
Longley agreed. 

“I’ve just a few minutes to let you try your hand at 
the wheel, but we won’t do it here. On the way I’ll 
tell you how you may be able to help to-night.” 

Inwood was silent for some minutes as they drove 
along. He must be careful, even, of what he told 
Benton Longley. He must have no regrets, and cast 
no reflections which could not be recalled. As a mat- 
ter of fact, he told himself his fixed purpose now was 
to disprove his own theories, to break down that en- 
tangling chain of circumstances which chance had 


146 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


thrown in his way.' It was a most unheard-of thing 
to consider seriously that any girl of the type of 

“I have an invitation to call and pay my respects at 
a certain house to-night, Longley,” Inwood broke 
through their silence. “Real classy part of the city, 
and it would never do to drive up without a chauffeur. 
I hope you are not going to try to form too many 
personal impressions, for the fewer the better. My 
ideas may have nothing to do with the case, or they 
may. Let us say that I have a remarkable curiosity 
regarding a certain young inmate of the house. Per- 
haps, if I wanted to know whether his eyebrows are 
dark or blond, could you find out, Longley?” 

The plainclothes man laughed incredulously. 

“For what are one’s eyes?” he asked. 

“Yet I have reason to believe that if they are really 
dark they will seem to be blond.” 

Longley whistled softly. 

“It might not be easy,” he considered slowly. “Yet 
there are chances. You want no rough work?” 

“Quite to the contrary. They must not even know 
that I care.” 

“This is most interesting,” the officer laughed easily. 
“It takes the mind from other things. How am I to 
know this youth?” 

Inwood reflected for a moment in silence. 

“It should be quite simple,” he declared. “There 
can be no doubt as to identity. He is a rather tall, 
slim, handsome youth, very fair. We will time our- 
selves to reach the house just after dusk. You can 
remain in the car. If by any chance he is not there, 
though he’s sure to be mooning around, or if my own 
eyes get me the answer, I will make some excuse out 
to the car. If I do not visit the car within ten min- 
utes, you are free to exercise your own ingenuity. 
But remember, I must be back at Rhoades’ by ten.” 


XIV 


It was with a distinct sense of disappointment, and 
a slight touch of resentment, that Harney Inwood drew 
back from the spacious entrance to the Odelmans’ re- 
ception rooms. The ’phone message which summoned 
him to the mansion had made no mention of others, 
yet here were rooms nearly filled with guests, and 
there was a gay hum of voices in the air. For a mo- 
ment he stood there, in the shadow of rich tapestry, in 
a penumbra of light, and his first hasty glance about 
the rooms struck him with wonder. Accustomed 
though he was to a lavish world which had denied him 
nothing, there was something about the Odelman home 
which reflected more than richness, an atmosphere 
which left him strangely impressed. 

Harney Inwood, in his careless way, had grown to 
accept luxury as but another name for life itself, so it 
must have been something far more subtle than out- 
ward display which could reach through the rind of 
things to his sensations. Doubtless, he began to tell 
himself, the strange happenings of the day had left 
him imaginative, somewhat supersensitive to impres- 
sions which grew from the figments of fancy. Yet no 
man can drive back his thoughts. In that brief mo- 
ment while he paused beneath the swaying curtains, his 
brain was keenly alive to a daring thought which 
gripped him for an instant and left him hectic with 
excitement. What if, behind all this ripple of laughter 
and gay chatter of voices, which held its head up for 


148 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


all the world to see, there was the body, the brain and 
the sinew of that occult organization which struck only 
in the dark? For a moment, as he looked through the 
soft lights of the rooms, and the murmur of voices 
subsided, his imagination whispered that behind the 
smiles there were the fangs of menace. 

In an instant Inwood shook the mood from him 
angrily. To put it mildly, such thoughts were treach- 
erous to the man whose hospitality he had accepted. 
Yet there was still a thrill in his veins and a brightness 
in his eyes when he stepped briskly across the room. 

Lucia Langmuir was not given to self-flattery, yet 
that brightness, she fancied, was all for her. The girl 
met him halfway across the room, and in her manner 
was the grace and charm of a lady born to high things. 

“It was good of you to come/’ she whispered, after 
the tedious formality of introductions was over. 
“Come, we will find a corner all by ourselves and 
chatter like the rest.” 

“Yet for a moment I all but regretted it,” Inwood 
returned, with a hasty glance about the rooms. 
“Guests are so exacting with a hostess, and you, I pre- 
sume, share that honor.” 

“I always knew you had a trace of selfishness,” she 
replied, with a laugh. “Yet perhaps it pleases me to 
humor it to-night. Either that, or I am wearied of 
all those others.” 

There was the soft incense of roses upon the air, 
all about was the tone of utmost refinement; yet as 
Inwood looked at the girl, it all seemed to him garish 
and wanton. He followed her without speaking, 
through a pillared way banked with palms and flowers, 
until at last there was nothing left of that garishness 
but a distant murmur. Quite naturally he found a 
seat by her side in the sunken garden, and it seemed 
to him that it was with a sigh of relief that the girl 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


149 


withdrew from it all. Nearby was the rhythmic 
splashing of water, from more distant came the tink- 
ling of music. 

“If the world could only be always this,” she mur- 
mured ; “music, flowers, the beauty of the night. If 
only there was no evil, no meanness, no grasping of 
avarice, no — treachery.” 

It seemed to the man that as she spoke there was a 
catch in her voice, one of those little human, sympa- 
thetic touches of emotion which he knew so well. Yet 
when he looked, her eyes were very full and soft with 
inner light. She wore a gown of clinging silk which 
stood out in faint contrast against the shades of night. 
She was looking her best. Her very nearness was a 
fascination. 

“If it were you who were always like this,” the man 
echoed, “the world could never change. Each man’s 
and each woman’s kingdom is in the heart, and when 
the heart is full, there is no room left for the evils of 
which you speak. It is not the world which changes, 
it is the people who are in it. The world itself is all 
beauty, beautiful as the night, and if there are black 
stains, it is the people who have put them there.” 

Then the man paused uncertainly, wondering at him- 
self, wondering at the strange silence of the girl at his 
side. Yet when he paused, she turned her face towards 
him, and through the dim light he could see that her 
eyes were wide and luminous. 

“Please go on,” she begged softly. “I hardly know 
you now. You seem to me almost like a stranger. I 
want to know you better, this new part of you. I have 
known the boy, it seems, for ages; now I would like 
to know the man.” 

The man laughed uncertainly, yet some inner 
prompting drove him on. 

“Perhaps I was thinking of you, Lucia, and how you, 


150 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


in these few minutes, have been able to change the 
coloring of the whole world. An hour ago, it was all 
drab and stained. Now it is the color of sunset. Lu- 
cia, when you are like this, you are the girl I first 
knew. You remember those nights on the steamer, 
when the moon was washing all the world with light 
and we floated through its sea of silver, when there 
was nothing in the world but beauty, when it seemed 
that we must be off in a little kingdom of our own. 
That is where we should be always, far away from 
the world of people, where one can forget the dark 
stains, into the world of nature and simplicity.” 

“I am afraid I am very, very selfish,” the girl mur- 
mured. “To let you talk this way seems such a com- 
fort. It braces one for the future. It seems to me it 
must be like a man who builds a palace in a desert, 
then goes away and leaves it. He no longer has the 
palace, but he has the memory. If I were only a little 
less selfish, I would not build up memories at your 
expense, Harney.” 

“Yet they are memories,” the man broke in quickly. 
“And time can turn back memories until they become 
alive again. See, we are living again those nights on 
the steamer. 'See that black smudge where the trees 
stand out against the sky — that is the drifting of smoke 
from the funnels. Hear the rippling of water from 
the fountains — that is the wash of waves against the 
bows. See the shimmer of the Bay down below — that 
is the sea. We can hear the whisper of voices and the 
tinkle of music, but we are alone, again. We can 
forget that there is any world, except you and I, we 
can steal away through its back door, while it makes 
merry with itself. It will forget us, it will never think 
of us again any more than we need think of it. Come, 
Lucia, the door is open ” 

Again the man paused, a little wistfully. 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


151 


“You are fanciful to-night, Harney,” the girl whis- 
pered. “In this mood you are wonderful; it is all so 
new to me. Yet neither you or I can forget that 
there is a future.” 

As the girl spoke there was the same frankness in 
her eyes that he had known before. There was even, 
he fancied, a little thrill of anticipation which was not 
for him. There was something, way off there in the 
future, which brought a sparkle to the eyes of Lucia 
Langmuir, a sparkle which grew from the thrill of the 
game itself. 

Slowly, as he looked, and fight it as he might, the 
realization came to him dully that perhaps, after all, 
he did not know this girl. In her words there was a 
subtle meaning which he could not fail to understand. 
It came to him as a shock, or perhaps as a tribute to 
the strength of her fascination over him, that for a 
time he had really forgotten the purpose of his mission. 
Except for that keenness in her eyes, which he could 
see was not for him, he would have told himself that 
it was the utmost folly even to think of Lucia Lang- 
muir as playing a role in the crucial game into which 
chance had thrust him. Slowly, as the wistfulness 
faded out of his eyes, as the significance of the girl’s 
words brought him back to a realization of the present, 
the man’s face hardened. 

Yet for a long time he studied the girl’s face, and 
she bore the scrutiny unflinchingly. In that instant, 
she, as well, felt the subtle change in Harney Inwood, 
and it was with a sigh of relief that she welcomed it. 
If she was to do the will of Markus Odelman, she 
would at least fight this man fairly. 

“Yes, we each have our futures,” she iterated, in a 
tone which was almost formal; “and futures, you 
know, have a habit of drawing people apart.” 

There was an obvious reply to that, Harney Inwood 


152 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


knew, but he left it unspoken. He remained silent for 
so long that his companion became restless. It was a 
silence through which he was trying to readjust his 
viewpoint, for some readjustment, he suddenly appre- 
ciated, was absolutely necessary. He had come to 
this house, trying to fight down his own beliefs, with 
a resolve to prove that Lucia Langmuir bore no con- 
nection with the affairs of the past night. His deter- 
mination had been to prove her mind as innocent and 
guileless as a child’s. Yet now, as he looked at the 
girl, as he remembered the queer inflection of her 
voice, he felt that he was wrong. It was his unerring 
intuition which had drawn him along the thinly defined 
trail she had left behind her, yet now, to follow that 
trail longer meant tragedy. Lucia Langmuir had 
played some part in the happenings of the night. Just 
what her part, he had no way of knowing, but at least 
she must have given her sanction. Perhaps even it 
was her brain which devised. 

And the enemies of Cheever Rhoades were not only 
the enemies of society, they were traitors to country 
and humanity! 

There was an atmosphere of unreality in it all. Just 
now, as he sat so moveless in the sunken garden, there 
was the mystery and the beauty of the night all about 
him. Before him, through a parting in the foliage, he 
could see the trailing pathway of the moon across the 
Bay, silvery in its radiance, from below came the 
countless murmurs of the great city, from somewhere 
near by came the languorous notes of island music, 
and here, at his side, within touch, was a woman, fas- 
cinating and lovely in the fullness of her youth, yet 
dreaming through his neglect. Surely it could not be 
possible. Surely his brain, in the tangle of the past 
few hours, had become warped upon itself. Yet when 
he recalled once more the little threads of circum- 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


153 


stances, the manner of the girl, her strange moments, 
he knew that he had touched one spring of the secret. 

The fair thing, he told himself, was to steal away, to 
see her no more. Yet there was his bond to Cheever 
Rhoades. There was his greater duty to the nation. 
No wonder he was silent and moveless for a long time. 
Such problems had never come before into the careless 
life of Harney Inwood. 

Then, at last, when it seemed that his brain must be 
breaking under the strain, he fancied he saw the glim- 
merings of a way out. There was no pathway, how- 
ever entangled, which might not be retraced. Perhaps 
Lucia Langmuir was but a victim of circumstances, 
was but waiting to be pulled from the fire. He must at 
least know that. 

“Futures,” he replied suddenly, with a return of 
lightness to his voice, “are such flexible things. You, 
in your own mind, may see a future for yourself which 
seems inevitable. There may seem to you to be facts 
which make it unchangeable. Yet perhaps those same 
facts to me might seem only a puff of air. Such a 
little thing will change the future. Sometimes it is 
nothing more than a strength of will, a determination 
to shake off the whole past ” 

Harney Inwood. paused, for he felt that in spite of 
the carelessness of his tone he was trespassing too far. 
There could be no doubt, from the girl’s manner, that 
she caught his full meaning. It even seemed, when he 
looked at her searchingly, that there was laughter be- 
hind the gravity of her eyes. She understood. She 
read his purpose through and through. 

“I saw you downtown at noon,” she returned, with 
an easiness which dismissed the whole past. “But per- 
haps you didn’t notice us. Allen and I drove by when 
you were talking with some man on the City Hall 
steps.” 


154 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


“That was a very good friend of mine,” Inwood re- 
turned, to gain time; “a Mr. Cheever Rhoades. You 
must meet him some time. He’s a real clever chap, 
with an inventive turn of mind.” 

“Really?” the girl returned, with sudden listless- 
ness. “And the type is so rare. Is he turning it to 
any practical purpose, or is he purely a faddist ?” 

“He seems -to have drawn the attention of a good 
many eyes,” Inwood returned pointedly. 

But the girl looked back into his eyes with a gaze 
which was frank and youthful in its innocence. 

“Indeed !” she rejoined, and the awakened interest 
in her tones was an invitation to proceed. 

For a moment Harney Inwood considered the situa- 
tion carefully. After all, if this girl knew what he be- 
lieved her to know, there could be nothing gained by 
concealment. If she did not know, her manner, per- 
haps, might declare her innocence. The girl’s eyes 
were still fixed upon him, frankly curious. 

“It is really something I shouldn’t be talking about,” 
he began uneasily. “You see, Rhoades has been spend- 
ing the last couple of years working on a new type 
submarine. I haven’t any idea what the principle of 
it is, for my bent, unfortunately, doesn’t take me into 
mechanics, though he tells me it has some wonderful 
speed and long-distance endurance which will make it 
the terror of the world.” 

“How wonderful !” the girl exclaimed, and Inwood, 
looking closely, decided that if the animation of her 
manner was not sincere, it was at least superbly done. 
“And you ? Have you had no part in it ?” 

“Financed him, that’s all,” Inwood explained hastily. 
“But his contrivance, they tell me, is really remarkable. 
You see, Rhoades, with a little greater foresight than 
the most of our race, got the idea long ago that we 
would have to get into this mix-up sooner or later, and 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


155 


when the time came he wanted to have something to 
offer the Government.” 

The girl’s sigh seemed one of genuine regret, and 
much of the animation dropped from her features as 
though blotted out by a bitter memory. 

“Yes, it is terrible,” she whispered. “And yet it 
must come. But it must be a great satisfaction to 
your friend to know that his offering is such a timely 
one. I see by the papers that we are just a few days 
from it now.” 

As she spoke, Harney Inwood watched the girl’s 
face shrewdly for some betraying flash of weakness, 
yet he went unrewarded. 

“Yet I am afraid it would have been a hundred times 
better had he never labored, had I thrown my money 
into the sea.” 

“Afraid? I do not understand,” the girl pleaded 
anxiously. “Will it not help to bring victory quicker ?” 

“It would have,” the man returned meaningly, “had 
we been left alone. But now — the truth of the matter 
is, Lucia, that the plans of the machine were stolen 
from Rhoades’ house last night, and I wouldn’t be a 
bit surprised to hear at any minute that the submarine 
itself had been blown up. We have enemies, unscru- 
pulous. Not our enemies,” he declared impressively, 
“but enemies of the nation.” 

“You know who they are?” she demanded. 

The man shook his head slowly. 

“They are very clever,” he replied. 

“You have, perhaps, some faint idea?” she pressed. 
Then suddenly the girl gripped his arm, as she whis- 
pered : “Ah! I have it. They must be the aliens 
within. We have read much of them in the papers, 
and no one else would dare.” 

“No one else would dare?” he repeated quizzically; 
but when he sought the girl’s eyes, they had drifted 


156 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


away. Yet he could see a rigidity in her pose, a 
strength in her features, which told of keen feeling. 
Perhaps it required only a few well-chosen words to 
impress upon her the folly of treachery. 

“No one but he whose heart bears the brand of the 
traitor could think of such a thing, at such a time as 
this,” Inwood went on slowly. “If, as you say, it is 
the work of the enemy alien in our midst, I suppose 
they are, technically, within their rights, though subject 
to the treatment of spies. If, on the other hand, which 
seems inconceivable, it is the work of a native-born, 
then it is one of the blackest blots on the pages of our 
history.” 

Inwood paused, to study the effect of his words, but 
the girl at his side seemed dreaming. 

“It is, it must be the work of the aliens,” she said 
slowly at last. “But could you not imagine any pos- 
sible motive which might induce any native-born to do 
what has been done ?” 

As the girl spoke, she held her face averted. There 
was a slight faltering of the lips, as though the ques- 
tion caused much pain. It was her first mistake, and 
the man, quick to realize it, felt a sudden sinking of 
the heart. Yet he replied swiftly : 

“For paltry gain? No.” 

“I was not thinking of gain,” the girl replied quickly. 
“What if — I hardly know how to put it. But there 
are some people who do not believe in war, who would 
fight it as they would fight nothing else.” 

“If they were sincere in their convictions, they might 
be entitled to some respect, in ordinary times, but not 
now,” Inwood felt a slight revival of spirits. If it was 
only a matter of beliefs, perhaps it was not too late yet 
to change them. 

“Well, of course, that’s absurd,” the girl spoke more 
quickly. “It’s the enemy within, and the quicker we 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


157 


find out who they are, the better. I suppose you have 
followed the obvious procedure and called in the po- 
lice. Doubtless they already have their definite suspi- 
cions. I have been told the officials here are wonder- 
fully clever.” 

“We have,” Inwood returned, measuring his words. 
“Rather, I have.” 

“Well?” The girl’s curiously innocent face was an 
invitation, a question. 

Nearby there was a slight rustling in the foliage. 
Inwood sprang to his feet, his nerves alert. There, 
but a few paces away, approaching them across the 
lawn, was Markus Odelman. 

“Inwood, my dear fellow, I’ve been looking for you 
all evening,” he greeted the younger man cheerily. “I 
wanted to rescue you from that chatter inside and beat 
you at a game of billiards. Then — well, I remembered 
youth and its ways, and I knew where to find you.” 

Inwood returned the greeting cordially. Above all 
things, if he was ever to learn the role of Lucia Lang- 
muir, he must retain the good will of this man who 
now stood before him, the type of simple-hearted gra- 
ciousness: 

“I caught a glimpse of you this forenoon,” Inwood 
returned, “while I had the pleasure of speaking to the 
charming Mrs. Odelman. You are indeed fortunate.” 

“Now you mustn’t hold my morning’s manners 
against me,” Odelman begged sincerely. “I must con- 
fess that a slight indisposition made me so selfish as to 
quite overlook my duties as host. A sign of advancing 
age, is it not, Inwood? Well, well, perhaps the real 
reason was that I knew you would be back soon.” 

Odelman laughed, as he glanced openly at Lucia 
Langmuir. 

“Your disposition to banter is further proof of great 
age,” the girl interposed quickly. “But, really, Mr. 


158 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


Odelman, when you provide such wonderful gardens, 
one must make use of them. There are interiors al- 
ways, but lawns and gardens like these ” 

The girl threw out her arm with a gesture of ad- 
miration. 

“As you know, Inwood, ’tis one of the pleasures of 
my advancing age. ’Tis perhaps my only fad, and 
they say that when age steals upon us we all grow 
fads. Yours, doubtless, will be the establishment of a 
home for broken-down polo ponies.” 

In wood laughed with his old boyishness. To look 
upon this man, with his benevolent face, his gracious 
manners, his kindly chatter, was to disarm suspicion 
itself. Yet to look at him again was to know that his 
talk of old age was but a pose. His dress, his man- 
nerisms, his carriage, labeled him as a remarkably 
well-preserved man under the sixties, while from the 
blondness of his features, his beard and his hair, he 
could easily have passed for years younger, had it 
pleased him to do so. His eyes were still frank and 
clear, at times they seemed almost penetrating, his 
smile was a winning one, and his tongue could play 
most gracefully with words of wisdom or wit. His 
frame, while tall and graceful, bore evidences of earlier 
strength. To Harney Inwood, glancing at him quickly, 
it seemed that Markus Odelman might either be the 
best man in the world, or the most unlikely, to be play- 
ing the role which Inwood’s imagination had elected 
for him. 

“That almost sounds like disapproval of my hab- 
its,” Inwood returned. “Perhaps I should take up 
with something more serious. To be quite frank, I 
am thinking of giving up the ponies entirely and turn- 
ing my full attention to the other.” 

“You mean, of course, your air-work?” Odelman 
asked. 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


159 


Inwood nodded. 

“ ’Tis well. ’Tis remarkably well,” Odelman re- 
turned, with a trace of seriousness in his voice. “For 
I am afraid we are going to need all you young chaps 
shortly. There is so much you can do, men of your 
type who have the means and the youth. Inwood, I 
envy you your youth and the part you can play in what 
is coming. To work for one’s country, to give of his 
brawn and his brain, in a moment of crisis. That 
seems sufficient.” 

When Markus Odelman paused, the younger man 
could see that his eyes were keen with a new light. 
When he went on again, the thrill had gone from his 
voice. 

“But as for me, there is left only the spectator’s 
part, to sit by the wayside and watch the deeds of 
youth.” 

There was real regret in Odelman’s tones, regret 
which Inwood could not fit in even remotely with his 
theories. He began to tell himself that he had played 
the part of the fool in his hasty conclusions, yet when 
he hurried back over his chain of facts his inclinations 
were forced to give way before reason. 

“Yes, if things come to a head, I’ll probably take a 
post as instructor,” Inwood rejoined, studying his man 
as he spoke. “You know, I can handle any of the pilot 
machines they have in the country now. As a matter 
of fact, my private machine, the one I brought over a 
month ago, is a war plane, with full, up-to-date equip- 
ment, wireless, quick-firer, and all. I had it out last 
week and did some pretty fair target work with it.” 

Odelman’s brows contracted meditatively, for an 
instant only. Then he placed his hand on Inwood’s 
shoulder in a kindly manner. 

“Young man,” he said, with feeling, “if you continue 
this way, you will make my envy almost an obsession. 


160 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


The least you can do, who are about to play a great 
part, is to help an old man forget the part he cannot 
play. Come inside for that game of billiards, that is 
one place where youth and age meet on the same 
footing.” 

“I am afraid it must be some other time. That will 
be something to look forward to,” Inwood returned, 
“an excuse to return. I will go in now, but just long 
enough to pay my respects to Mrs. Odelman. That is 
the siren of my car you have been hearing out in front 
occasionally. Yes, I have taken a driver, and he seems 
to have a greater sense of punctuality than I have 
myself.” 

Harney Inwood excused himself, and passed into 
the house alone. The others, Markus Odelman and 
Lucia Langmuir, stood where they were, in the sunken 
garden, for a long time in silence. They waited until 
the blasts of the siren ceased and the long, gray road- 
ster was slipping down the hill toward the city. 

The man turned quickly. 

“My dear Lucia,” he exclaimed, “you are superb!” 

“You heard ?” she asked quietly. 

“Quite enough, thank you, to make me appreciate 
your wonderful gifts.” 

For a moment the woman was silent, her thoughts 
seemed far away. 

“And did you see in it no cruelty?” she asked 
quickly, as she looked into the man’s face again. 

“Unfortunately, my dear girl, the world is filled with 
cruelty. ’Tis the basis of its creed.” 

Whatever the girl’s mood and its motive, it was 
quickly and resolutely thrown aside, driven out by the 
keener thrill of what lay in the future. 

“Then perhaps you could tell from his manner 
whether or not he suspects ” 

Odelman held up his hand in warning. 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


161 


“No names, my dear girl, even here,” he admon- 
ished. “I gathered from his words, of course, that he 
has his own ideas on the case. His suspicions point to 
us, perhaps, but that does not matter. What I fear 
more is that they point as well to ” 

The man leaned closer and lowered his voice : 

“Let us call him Andre, the fox.” 

“In that case,” the girl reflected, “it will be neces- 
sary ” 

“Just as you say, to draw a little more of their fire. 
To — ah — throw out a clew to-night.” 

Markus Odelman sighed wearily. Then abruptly 
the lines of his face and his figure tightened. He 
seemed to be listening intently. The girl looked at 
him inquiringly. 

“We are being spied upon,” he whispered. 

Odelman turned quickly, and, ignoring the steps, 
sprang up the terraced walls of the garden, with a 
movement so supple and swift as to belie quite his 
earlier claims to advancing age. As he reached the 
top he could see that a man was running swiftly across 
the lawn 'toward the rear. Even as he looked, the man 
slipped out of the moonlight into the shadows. Odel- 
man made no attempt to follow. When he turned 
back, the girl was standing at his side. 

“Now, who the devil was that?” he exclaimed 
softly, “and just what did he hear?” 


XV 

Considering the extent to which certain events had 
refused to follow his prescription, Andre Merwin’s 
countenance was reflecting a remarkable degree of 
complacent good-humor. As he walked about the 
room, rubbing his hands with a gentle laving move- 
ment, he was permitting himself to display an intensity 
of benevolence which quite astonished his adherents. 
But that was the way with Andre Merwin — the greater 
the grounds for concern, the greater the calm which 
must be shown. 

“As my friend, Mr. Croucher, pointed out this af- 
ternoon/’ he was remarking, “there is a limit to the 
extent of one’s misfortune, just as there is a limit to 
the extent of his good fortunes, though Mr. Croucher 
used much cruder expression than that. But permit 
me to remind you all, at the same time, that fortune 
and foresight go hand in hand. The mistakes of the 
past must be buried, except insomuch as they help to 
guard us for the future. There were contingencies 
with which we could not hope to cope, for what man 
ever prepares a defense against an enemy, not know- 
ing he has one? Now that we are on our guard, gen- 
tlemen, I think we have an organization with which no 
other of its kind on the continent — permit me to say, 
in the whole world — can hope to compete. We have 
the further advantage of seeming, for the time, at 
least, to be on the side of law and order ” 

Andre Merwin paused in his dissertation long 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


168 


enough to permit himself the luxury of a well-con- 
trolled laugh. 

“You must pardon me, gentlemen,” he continued a 
moment later, “but the situation has its elements of 
humor. The unexpected position in which we find our- 
selves, working hand in hand with the law of the land, 
appeals to a person’s risibilities and quite counteracts 
any further factor of danger which it may involve. 
We, Mr. Groucher and I, occupy a very high position 
in the esteem of the gifted gentleman who seeks to 
control the ungovernable type of citizen. Already we 
have been able to throw out some very valuable sug- 
gestions for his, shall we say, discomfiture. It re- 
mains only for you, Mr. Nallfar, to redeem yourself 
by grasping those opportunities. The broad princi- 
ples, I think we all understand. For the time being, 
we are all devoted citizens, helping to stamp out this 
blight which has come among us, and then, when the 
right moment comes ” 

This time, when Andre Merwin paused, he allowed 
his eyes to dwell upon some object in the future, and 
whatever he saw there was so reflected upon his coun- 
tenance as to cause shrewd, covetous glances to pass 
among his followers. 

“But you, Kingway,” Merwin resumed, in a tone 
which had become all cold formality, “have some report 
to make, I understand ?” 

The man addressed, a youth not much over twenty, 
with a well-set, rugged figure, an intense gleam in his 
eyes, and a marked alien cast to his features, rose 
from his position by the wall and advanced toward 
Merwin. When he spoke, his English was as un- 
touched by accent as that of Merwin himself. 

“It has to do with the affair in front of the city 
hall at noon,” the youth explained, without haste. “I 
am entitled to no particular credit, as I happened to 


164 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


be standing near the edge of the crowd when the man 
broke through.” 

“You mean the one who rode the wheel into Inwood 
and Rhoades?” Merwin questioned. 

“Undoubtedly,” Kingway returned calmly. “He was 
the only weak point in their chain.” 

“You are doubtless going to tell me,” Merwin re- 
sumed, “that, however stupid the police may be in 
such matters, you at least did not let the man 
escape.” 

“You are right, sir; we took him directly on board 
the yacht.” 

Merwin reflected for a moment in silence. It was 
quite unnecessary to ask this quiet but efficient young 
satellite what had happened next. The face of the 
man was too heavy, too phlegmatic and unimagina- 
tive to indicate that he could ever develop scruples at 
such a time as this. 

“So he has talked already,” Merwin interpreted the 
man’s mood. 

“There was little time to be lost.” 

“Of course, the man does not turn out to be any- 
body of importance,” Merwin meditated. “A hireling 
at the best. That is where our friends, the enemy, 
have made their mistake. They lack our solidity. 
Now, for instance, there isn’t a man of you here who 
could have been induced to talk even under pain of 
the refined pressure which Kingway here knows so 
well how to bring to bear. I presume, Kingway, that 
I am quite right.” 

“A hireling, it is true, sir, but a faithful one,” the 
young man returned stolidly. “It was only under great 
pressure, I may say, intense pain, that he was induced 
to talk.” 

“Then you know the organization for which he 
worked ?” 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


165 


“He professed not to know, and I am confident the 
man told the truth.” 

“Then the name of his employer, perhaps?” 

Kingway glanced around the room slowly at the 
rest, with cool unconcern, then he looked squarely in 
the eyes of Andre Merwin. His meaning was plain. 

“Your over-caution is almost a fault,” Merwin con- 
tinued, “but it may be as well. You may come closer 
and whisper the name in my ear.” 

The youth followed the suggestion, and the words 
he whispered in the ear of Andre Merwin were : 

“Mr. Markus Odelman.” 

Merwin waited a moment, as though testing his 
memory; then he demanded: 

“And who might Mr. Markus Odelman be?” 

“That I do not know. There has been no time to 
make inquiries. I thought possibly the name might 
mean something to you.” 

The older man shook his head slowly. 

“Never heard of him,” he decided. “But could not 
the captive tell?” 

“Unfortunately, the man has not recovered con- 
sciousness,” Kingway returned evenly; but there was 
something in his extreme calm which made the older 
man glance at him more closely. 

“Unconscious, you say?” Merwin leaned forward. 

“I have implied before that it was a case which re- 
quired the most extreme measures.” 

“So,” Merwin whispered to himself softly and 
gently, “he will not talk again.” 

“Not in this world, sir.” 

There was upon the face of Andre Merwin none of 
the marks of surprise or remorse or horror which 
strike most men with the news of death. There was 
instead the slight impatience of a man who sees some- 
thing pleasureable brushed from his hands. 


166 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


“It’s regrettable you couldn’t learn who this Odel- 
man is,” was his reply. 

“That should be easily corrected,” Kingway assured 
him. “I can spend the night on it.” 

Andre Merwin leaned back in his seat again, and 
he permitted his eyes to wander all over the face and 
the figure of the younger man. As he studied the 
man before him, a shrewd little gleam came to his 
features, and at length he motioned to Kingway to 
step still closer. 

“You have done remarkably well; you are a prom- 
ising lad,” he confided, in a very low tone. “I will 
remember this. I think I can promise you something 
rather good when I see ” 

As the stolid youth walked back to his place by the 
wall, there was some slight trace of emotion on his 
rather expressionless features. 

For a very short time, Merwin mused and shuf- 
fled the papers before him ; then he spoke quickly. 

“There was something you wished to say, Benson,” 
he suggested. 

“It is merely that in my opinion the man Inwood is 
not as harmless as you would believe,” that somber- 
faced youth replied, without advancing from his posi- 
tion. 

“Anything definite, or is it merely suspicion?” Mer- 
win asked quickly. “The man has plenty of intelli- 
gence, but he does not seem to know how to use it.” 

“He used it enough to trace me back to the Oakland 
telegraph office,” Benson replied, with a show of sav- 
agery in his features. 

“Which is doubtless less intelligence on his part 
than lack of caution on yours,” Merwin reprimanded. 
“You have nothing to gain, Benson, by a display of 
anger. It interferes with your efficiency. Tell me, in- 
stead, have you checked up the leak ?” 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


167 


“Fortunately, when Inwood inquired at the Oakland 
office, the night clerk was not in,” Benson explained 
more calmly. 

“So you have seen the clerk first,” Merwin con- 
cluded. 

The younger man nodded simply. 

“It is efficiency, our efficiency, which will win in 
this,” Merwin decreed. “Had Inwood been alert, you 
might have had an ugly tale to tell by now, Benson.” 

“Inefficiency is sometimes a man’s greatest safe- 
guard,” the youth returned philosophically. 

“And that is all?” _ 

Benson remained silent, as he inclined his head. 

“The man is at least worth watching,” Merwin de- 
clared. “Now, Mr. Croucher, I want to congratulate 
you on your keen perception this afternoon up at 
Rhoades’ house. That is, when we were discussing 
the meeting for midnight out past San Rafael. It was 
perfectly apparent from Donegal Dawn’s manner that 
no matter how innocent and open-hearted we may 
seem, he is going to try to cross us. Matt, you have 
touches of brilliancy now and then. It is quite plain 
that Dawn wants the police launch left free for some 
purpose of his own, while he rides with us. When you 
and Nallfar were out this afternoon, what did you 
find?” 

“A lonely hole,” Croucher rumbled ; “an old broken- 
down dock which is never used, even in daytime. Just 
fancy it at night! A fine spot for a man to come to 
the end of his days.” 

“The point is this,” Merwin interrupted: “When 
the representative of this other organization comes 
there at midnight, is he coming by land or by water?” 

“There isn’t a motor road within half a mile,” Nall- 
far replied, “which means that if they come by land, 
we have them.” 


168 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


“You forget they have made threats,” Merwin re- 
turned dryly. 

“That’s all nonsense, if we’re there first, and a man’s 
willing to take a little chance,” Nallfar replied fiercely. 
“Somebody is going to pay for what they did to me.” 

Andre Merwin looked at his follower coldly. 

“I think it would be well if you rested for the 
night,” he advised calmly. “You do not seem to be 
in any condition, Nallfar, to take part in any enter- 
prise where risk is involved. Not that I don’t sym- 
pathize with you, but you must appreciate that there 
is too much at stake.” 

Strangely enough, all the sullenness left Nallfar’s 
features, so that he was like a child in Merwin’s hands. 
He seemed eager to please. 

“The chances are ten to one that they’ll come by 
water,” he declared. 

“So Dawn must have guessed,” Merwin agreed. 
“He probably knows the location. Therefore, he 
wants the police patrol left free. He is playing quite 
independent of us, Croucher; are we not justified in 
playing independent of him?” 

Croucher grinned expansively, and nodded his head 
briskly. 

“A queer situation,” Merwin reflected, with marked 
relish. “There’ll be the two of us, Matt, and Donegal 
Dawn, Rhoades, and doubtless Inwood, all in our yacht 
launch. An innocent party, really. It’s really a pity, 
Matt, that we have to attend Dawn’s little party. It 
would be nice to be out with the boys. But just whafi 
is everything going to hinge on to-night?” 

Crouched guffawed loudly. 

“Speed,” he declared quite positively. 

“In launches,” Merwin concluded. “We are reason- 
ably sure that they will come by water, and while we 
may not lay hands on their messenger, we can at least 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


169 


follow them until daylight, or a week, for that matter. 
Is the Ozell in shape, Matt?” 

“At this minute there isn’t a faster boat on the Bay, 
bar none, and she’s well stocked,” Croucher returned, 
with a trace of pride. 

“Remember, we must reckon with the police patrol. 
If our ambiguous friends come by water, the patrol 
will try the same thing as we. They might decide to 
take an interest in our curiosity. What do you think, 
Kingway? You will be in charge of the Ozell ” 

“She has from five to eight miles to spare, and a 
reinforced prow,” that youth returned stolidly. “We 
could cut down anything twice our size, and get away.” 

Andre Merwin looked at the man for a moment in 
wonder. It was with such tools, he told himself, that 
kingdoms might be fashioned. 

“As for us, Matt,” he lamented, as he turned to- 
ward the big seaman, “there is nothing left but the 
mummer’s part. We must take Dawn for a ride in 
poor old Sadie. Not much life, but just enough to 
keep him at the end of the race.” 


XVI 

It was really a remarkable night, beautiful in its 
peace and innocence. As the launch swept around a 
point of land to the north of San Rafael, it nosed its 
way into a little Bay whose water lay still and opaline 
before them, and over all was the silver-gray cloak of 
the moon. From their crouched positions in the launch 
the men could see that the Bay curved its way for a 
half mile or more into a shore line dense with under- 
growth, a shore line which now stood out black and 
somber against the silver of the Bay, as though crouch- 
ing down to the water like a shroud. When they drew 
closer, they could see that what had looked like land 
shadows in the water was in reality a thick bed of 
tules reaching out for many yards all along the shore. 
In this season, the tules were high and lush, and though 
just now they seemed to be nodding lazily enough, they 
formed one of the most admirable screens which a 
boating party could wish. 

Halfway down the curve of the Bay was a denser 
growth of trees, which was probably a cluster of euca- 
lyptus, and from the blacker shadows at their feet an 
old dock jutted out past the shadows and the beds of 
tules until its nose rested in the bright arc of moon- 
light. At one side of the dock, near the shore, yet 
stretching out over the water, was a shadowy some- 
thing which looked like the remains of a dismantled 
building, and which, though outwardly dead and cheer- 
less, might have harbored anything from mice to men. 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


171 


Over all was a dead, motionless calm. It was one of 
those backwaters which lie so near the ways of the 
world as to make one aspire to know their past. 

Though the launch cruised up and down the full 
length of the Bay, close to the beds of tules, and 
though the men peered and strained their eyes to 
pierce the shadows, they saw no signs of life. The 
only sounds or signs of life in that little wayside world 
they carried with them. 

“Which doesn’t mean to say there is no one here,” 
Andre Merwin voiced the popular sentiment. 

Cheever Rhoades, in the prow, stirred uneasily. 

“What an ugly-looking hole it is !” he declared. 

“Why, Cheever,” Inwood protested, “any artist 
would tell you that it is a delightful little spot. Here 
we are in the backwash of civilization, and what play 
there is for the imagination ! Those shadows along 
the shore do not look somber and gloomy for noth- 
ing; they are hiding a secret, perhaps. These clusters 
of tules are not nodding in innocence for nothing; 
they are playing a part. And look at that ramshackle 
old building at the foot of the dock; it is the kind of 
place in which ghouls and conspirators delight. Gen- 
tlemen, the situation would not have been complete, it 
would have lacked some of the necessary atmosphere, 
if we had not been brought to a place like this. What 
do you think of it, Dawn? You have been silent quite 
too long.” 

“Remarkably well chosen, for their purpose,” that 
official returned quietly. Strangely enough, his inter- 
est in the affair did not seem acute. As a matter of 
fact, Donegal Dawn had displayed so little feeling to- 
ward the details of their undertaking that once or 
twice Merwin had remarked upon his indifference. 
Just now it seemed that he was holding himself aloof, 
for Dawn was sitting in the back of the launch, smok- 


172 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


ing, and looking out upon the world with a philosophic 
and nerveless calm. Merwin turned toward him 
abruptly. 

“I hope you will not think it criticism of your meth- 
ods, Mr. Dawn,” he began, “nor any attempt to dic- 
tate your course of action, but it seems to me that if I 
were in your position, I would have made some attempt 
to catch their messenger to-night.” 

As Dawn did not reply, Merwin went on, a little 
more pointedly. 

“I may be mistaken in my ideas,” he continued, “but 
it occurs to me that enterprise and a dash of daring 
should be one of the first requisites of a man in your 
position.” 

“Tempered with judgment,” Dawn replied briefly. 

The official’s laconic calm nettled Andre Merwin, 
though he turned his face away to hide the fact. He 
scarcely knew what to make of a man of Dawn’s tem- 
perament, who could not be twitted into retort which 
might show his hand, who seemed to be always idle, 
and yet whose brain, he knew, was never still. 

“I don’t know that there is any use of us skulking 
along the shore like this,” Merwin declared, a moment 
later. “If others want to hide in the shadows, let them. 
Since we are here only to learn what their messenger 
has to say, there is no reason why we shouldn’t go 
and anchor up to the end of the dock and sit out in 
the moonlight where anybody can see us who wants to. 
That is all we need to do, since it is their part to come 
to us.” 

“Good idea,” Dawn agreed. 

“Just the same,” Merwin continued, as they drew 
near the moonlit end of the pier, “I think a little quick 
action and resourcefulness might accomplish a whole 
lot to-night. The messenger is to come out to the end 
of this dock to talk to Rhoades. See the length of it — 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


173 


a full hundred yards, and there is a broken section at 
the center which takes time to get over. When the 
man walks out to the end, what’s to prevent the four 
of us bundling him into the launch and getting away 
with him before help could arrive?” 

“What a determined little beggar you are, Andre!” 
Inwood broke in. “To hear you talk, one would think 
that life is something to be plucked from a tree any 
day. Doubtless it will be your playful friend who 
carries hand grenades in his pockets.” 

Merwin remained silent as the launch glided up to 
the end of the pier. 

As the party climbed up on the quay, they found that 
it was firm enough, though bearing all the appearance 
of long desertion. The planked top had fallen away 
in spots, leaving only the stone buttress, while farther 
back a tangle of weeds and shrubs attested further to 
its desolation. The building behind was in the somber 
shroud of shadows through which the moonlight played 
in little darting shafts. All about was the utmost si- 
lence. From far away across the Bay they could see 
the shifting lights of the Monticello ferry; in the dis- 
tance was the dull glow of Vallejo. All this but served 
to emphasize their isolation. 

“It’s a spooky place,” Inwood whispered, and he 
made a movement like a man who shivers. “Andre, 
whose courage has been throbbing in his veins, I ap- 
point you to go and search that ghost building to our 
rear. I cannot feel at ease until it is done, for the 
bristles on my back tell me that it is occupied. Almost 
do I fancy that I see eyes peering out upon us, or is it 
the moon shining through the cracks? The search is 
something which I feel I can entrust to you, Andre, 
and while you search, I will sit here and watch. If 
anything comes this way, it will be time then to borrow 
trouble. Ah! Is that not something flitting about in 


174 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


the shadows? Go quick, Andre, or it may be gone!” 

Merwin glanced quickly in the direction indicated, 
with a trace of nervousness ; then he sat down calmly 
on the edge of the pier, with his back to the building, 
and lit a cigarette. 

“It lacks ten minutes of midnight,” he announced 
quite placidly, as he made himself comfortable. “Since 
my views are such idle ones, I remain, for the rest, an 
impassive spectator.” 

Rhoades and Dawn sat down quite near him, and 
remained in silence, looking out steadily over the road- 
stead of the Bay. For a moment or more Inwood stood 
and watched them ; then he turned abruptly and picked 
his way quickly back over the dock toward the land 
side. While still some distance from the shore, he be- 
came quite convinced that the midnight envoy must 
come by way of the sea, for one of the central but- 
tresses of the pier had been torn almost away, and it 
was only by carefully feeling his way that he was able 
to reach the shoreward end in safety. Inwood found 
himself standing before a dilapidated building which 
some day might have been the casual home of a dock- 
keeper, but whose upper rafters now stood out skele- 
ton-like against the glow of the moon. The only door 
facing the dock was hanging ajar, but whether that 
was a recent pose or one of habit, Inwood could not 
say. Through the opening he fancied he could see that 
another door, facing in the opposite direction out upon 
the undergrowth of shrubbery, was in much the same 
position, though he could not be quite sure. Over all 
was an ominous, unnatural calm, a deathlike silence. 

“What an unholy place !” Inwood shivered and whis- 
pered to himself. “A wonderful ambush. I can see 
at least a dozen places myself from where a man might 
shoot. There must be no tampering with our strange 
messenger to-night.” 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


175 


Inwood turned, and was about to retrace his steps, 
when the faintest sound of motion caught his ear. 
Almost at the same instant something fell at his feet 
like the noise of a rolling pebble. The man stood 
quite still. Only his eyes were searching the shadows 
all about. A moment later the sound was repeated, and 
Inwood, looking down quickly, believed he could tell 
the direction from which the pebble had come. He 
walked slowly, but unhesitatingly, toward that part of 
the shadows. 

Inwood’s course took him through some overhanging 
boughs, into a small, darker enclosure of tree trunks, 
where he was forced to stand for an instant until his 
eyes became accustomed to the darkness. At length, 
through the gloom, he could discern the form of a man, 
seated coolly on an exposed root of eucalyptus. 

“Well?” Inwood inquired, barely above a whisper. 
“You have made wonderful time, Longley.” 

“Thanks to the fair youth,” the plainclothes man re- 
turned, “ ’Tis a pace I would never have chosen for 
myself.” 

“You mean to say he is here?” Inwood demanded, 
in some concern. 

“Somewhere in the neighborhood is the best I can 
say,” the other replied, with a tone of self-reproach. 
“He gave me the slip at the end.” 

“But he came this way?” Inwood insisted. “Better 
tell all about it.” 

“If you will pardon my saying so, Mr. Inwood,” 
Longley digressed for a moment, “I think you should 
be on the force. I don’t want to know how you did it, 
but you’ve put your hand right into the whole kettle of 
fish. There’s something queer about the big house 
where you spent the evening, and about the whole lot 
of them.” 

“What do you mean? What have you found out?” 


176 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


Inwood tried to make his voice seem cool and natural, 
but in spite of himself he felt a little thrill of fear. 
There was even an unbidden flash of resentment to- 
ward this man at his side. What if the man had dis- 
covered more than Inwood meant him to know ? 

“Nothing in particular, and yet everything,” the man 
returned pensively. “You see, being asked to watch a 
certain cove makes you wonder all sorts of things. 
When I went back to the house, after driving you down 
the hill, what did I see but the old gent, the one that 
looks like a foreign duke, chasing somebody across the 
lawn. Not that he chased his man far, but it was plain 
enough that we are not the only ones who are watch- 
ing the house. Then this young chap ” 

“Yes, tell me about him,” Inwood urged. 

“To see him dawdling around the house there to- 
night, you’d think all he could do was carry a cup of 
tea. But when that young one starts stretching his 
legs> he knows how to set a pace. First of all, I nearly 
lost him when he took the ferry for Sausalito. Then 
he stepped into a car at the dock which was waiting 
for him, and tore over that road faster than I’d drive 
in daylight. They’ve been over it before. If I hadn’t 
found a seat in the spare tires, I wouldn’t have been 
here.” 

“But you say you lost track of him ?” 

“The car stopped just opposite here. The young 
chap got off and turned this way. I had to keep my 
place for a little time. When I came back there was 
no sign of him. But he’s down this way, and I’ll 
wager he isn’t fifty yards off.” 

Inwood studied his man for a moment in silence. 

“This, you will understand,” he said at last, “is 
one of the things which remains between you and 
me. 

“Quite naturally,” Longley agreed. “But I think it 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


177 


shows you put your finger on the right spot when you 
went up to the big house.” 

The official’s tone and manner were meant to be 
encouraging, even flattering, yet to Inwood the man’s 
words brought little cheer. It would seem that the 
deeper he dug into the maze of things, the more per- 
sistent and determined he became to prove his the- 
ories false, the more evidence did he discover of their 
truth. Inwood’s lips were straightening out into hard 
lines. 

“Permit me to suggest that it is time you were going 
back to the others,” he heard Longley’s voice breaking 
through his meditations some time later. “I hear the 
sound of a launch out in the Bay. It is doubtless the 
messenger.” 

As Inwood listened more closely, he heard the dis- 
tant barking from the exhaust. Perhaps it was the 
clearness of the night, but it seemed to Inwood that 
those sounds told of great power in repression. There 
was that smooth, even break in the explosions which 
told of a motor turning over slowly, yet from their 
rapidly increasing volume he knew that the launch was 
approaching at a quick pace. It was with a little thrill 
of wonder that he turned away and left Longley in the 
shadows. It was to be his first glimpse of any recog- 
nized representative of this great and mysterious 
power. 

Inwood hurried the full length of the dock as rap- 
idly as conditions would permit, and arrived in time 
to see a strange-looking craft backing toward the 
quay. 

“Sit down !” Dawn commanded abruptly. 

“Not taking any chances, are they?” Merwin mut- 
tered, half to himself. “They’re to be ready for a 
flying start.” 

“Looks as though they’re ready for more than that,” 


178 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


Dawn drawled. “Do you see what they have on each 
end of the boat?” 

As Inwood looked, he saw two instruments quite fa- 
miliar to him, one mounted on the flat deck at either 
end of the launch. They were dark-looking objects, 
covered with tarpaulin, beneath which could be seen 
the legs of tripods. 

“Machine guns!” Andre Merwin gasped. “Just 
who can these people be ?” There was a hollow note in 
Merwin’s tones which spoke of sudden anxiety. There 
was something personal and searching in his cry which 
had nothing whatever to do with the problem of 
Cheever Rhoades. 

“I should say that they represent a certain type of 
efficiency,” Dawn returned quietly, without showing the 
least trace of interest in the newcomers. 

As Dawn spoke, one of the occupants of the launch, 
of whom there seemed to be four, rose from his posi- 
tion in the tonneau and sat down on the gunwale of 
the rear deck, one arm thrown out over the tarpaulin 
and what it concealed. The movement was a natural 
one, as though the man had risen for a better view, yet 
there was in it something sinister and suggestive. The 
five men, with legs dangling over the edge of the dock, 
remained absolutely still as the launch, a powerful- 
looking craft, backed to within a few yards of their 
position. 

For a full minute it remained there, and the only 
sound was the subdued bark of the engine. A tall, 
dark man rose from the center of the craft and climbed 
out on the deck past the machine gun, and as he did so 
his hand swept away the tarpaulin. Even the trained 
eye of Donegal Dawn could not say whether that 
movement was one of chance or design, but the man 
who now stood within a few feet of them did not seem 
to notice it. 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


179 


“So that’s the lot of you?” he questioned, without 
any trace of arrogance. 

Dawn nodded simply, without speaking. 

“Then I’m willing to take your word for it, if you 
are,” the stranger resumed. “So if one of you’ll just 
give me a hand I’ll come up there beside you.” 

It was Donegal Dawn who offered the service, quite 
courteously, and it seemed as he leaned over that he 
was peering keenly into the face of the other. 

“Make-up,” he remarked to himself ; then he sat 
down again as though his interest had vanished. 

With the first appearance of the big stranger, who 
was showing unexpected signs of cordiality, both 
Rhoades and Merwin became painfully aware of the 
fact that this was not any man whom they had ever 
seen before. Least of all could it be the envoy of the 
day previous. He was much too tall and muscular for 
that. His manner was quite different. There was in 
it more self-command. It was as though there had 
come to them one of the leaders of a movement which 
before had sent its underling. 

“Quite a little gathering,” the stranger commented, 
as he glanced about the group. “A delegation of this 
strength is most unlooked-for flattery. Mr. Rhoades, 
I believe. But you will pardon me if I do not intro- 
duce myself other than to say that if you have occa- 
sion, you may call me Sylvester. As you were about 
to suggest, Mr. Rhoades, it would be much better to 
conduct our little chat where we will not disturb these, 
your friends. Shall we say just over here where we 
can look out upon the delightful moonlight? I can 
recommend these cigarettes, Mr. Rhoades. They are 
the very finest I can import.” 

Except for this chattering voice, there was a dead 
calm over all. The four men had resumed their posi- 
tion on the edge of the dock. Directly in front of 


180 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


them was the launch, with engine shut off, riding idly 
up and down upon the slighest swell. Two of its oc- 
cupants seemed to have dropped back into positions 
which left them nearly hidden ; the third still held his 
post by the machine gun which he had not taken the 
trouble to re-cover. He seemed to be dreaming, yet 
the men upon the dock felt that their slightest move 
was noted. 

“I believe, Mr. Rhoades, we are quite beyond ear- 
shot, ” Sylvester continued, as they reached a more 
distant part of the pier. “Here are two boulders. 
Would it not be well to sit? Our conversation may 
take some time.” 

“The briefer, the better, so far as I am concerned,” 
Rhoades returned brusquely, and was surprised to find 
himself just a little ashamed of his discourtesy. 

“A plain business man like myself,” the other 
affected to overlook Rhoades’ manner. “Would it 
surprise you, Mr. Rhoades, if I were to tell you 
that I am one of the best friends you have in the 
world ?” 

“I think I am past the stage of astonishment,” 
Rhoades returned dryly. “And I am still quite capable 
of forming my own opinions.” 

“Hasty ones, I will wager,” the big man replied, 
with a laugh. “I can see that we are going to get on 
well together, Mr. Rhoades. But before we say any 
more, let me beg your pardon for dragging you out to 
a lonesome hole like this. I should have paid my re- 
spects at your home, except for some of your friends, 
whose curiosity is quite phenomenal.” 

“I presume you came for a purpose,” Rhoades re- 
minded coldly. 

The big man seemed to sigh, as though in disap- 
pointment. 

“If I could only prevail upon you to catch the proper 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


181 


spirit/’ he went on, more earnestly, “our negotiations 
could be carried out with the utmost frankness. Since 
I feel that the proposition I have come to make may 
astonish you somewhat, I am taking the trouble to try 
to impress upon you that it is to be made in a friendly 
spirit, and with all seriousness.” 

“Possibly I can shorten this conversation,” Rhoades 
broke in, “by telling you that you are quite too late. 
Resourceful and clever as you are, there seems to be 
others more so. The plans are gone.” 

“My dear Mr. Rhoades,” the other returned heart- 
ily, “how you misjudge us. We would have been in- 
deed open to criticism had we not known that fact 
within an hour of its happening. It is because we see 
you are beset with enemies that we have come to you 
in friendliness.” 

Rhoades’s brows contracted in deep thought. Just 
here, he could see, were wonderful possibilities — for a 
man who was prepared to resort to any means. 

“You perhaps know who has the plans?” Rhoades 
hazarded. 

“Now we are getting down to points,” the stranger 
returned. “If I so wished, I might tell you both name 
and address of the person who was so inconsiderate as 
to take them from you. I could tell you where they 
are lying at this minute, and, approximately, the hour 
when they will come into our hands.” 

“But you did not come here to pass along such se- 
crets as those,” Rhoades replied. 

“You are a man of discernment, Mr. Rhoades. I 
am but paving the way to show you how valuable is 
the offfer I am about to make. Prejudicing the case 
in our favor, as it were. Did I choose, I might tell 
you as well who is the third party in the case, with 
names and motives. You see, we have been devoting 
considerable attention to your interests, and now, 


182 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


strangely as it may seem, it is you who are about to 
benefit.” 

“It seems to be some distance to the point,” Rhoades 
rejoined. 

“I am just there,” Sylvester returned, unruffled. “I 
have come, in short, to propose to you an alliance of 
interests, a temporary one.” 

Rhoades laughed, without any attempt to conceal his 
sarcasm. 

“It would seem that, quite unknown to me, we must 
have interests in common,” he returned. “I must ad- 
mit, Mr. Sylvester, that prepared though I was for 
absurdities, you have astonished me.” 

The big man rubbed his hands together with grati- 
fication. 

“Then my point is half won,” he declared, quite 
frankly, “for they say that to approach a man from an 
unexpected quarter is to break down half his reserve.” 

“And what have we in common, Mr. Sylvester?” 
Rhoades returned, and he felt that, in spite of him- 
self, he could not hold any hostility toward this big, 
good-natured man whose methods were so novel. 

“It cannot be possible that you have forgotten the 
submarine ?” the man exclaimed. 

“So you have an interest in that,” Rhoades reflected. 

“A most intense one,” Sylvester returned coolly. 
“Have I not been trying to tell you all along? It is 
concerning the submarine that I have come to propose 
an alliance.” 

“Just where do our interests meet, even in that?” 

“In its preservation,” the man returned calmly, “un- 
less, of course, you have no such interest.” 

There was in the man’s manner much more than 
the bare words conveyed. There was a certain sin- 
cerity which left no doubt in Rhoades’s mind as to 
immediate dangers, but from what quarters he could 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


183 


only guess. As he studied the man carefully, he be- 
came convinced that for the moment at least he was 
genuine, that whatever double motives he had to play 
were for the meantime crowded into the background. 

“It is, then, in danger?” Rhoades asked, to gain 
time. 

“Great danger of destruction,” the man replied 
simply, and there was no doubting his manner. 

“Yet you, or your organization, wish it preserved,” 
Rhoades mused, “which hardly seems in conformity 
with your attitude of yesterday.” 

“Even you, Mr. Rhoades, must admit that many 
things may happen in a brief time, even a change of 
viewpoint.” 

Rhoades laughed harshly. 

“Many things have happened,” he declared. “But 
you have something further to suggest. I hold my 
judgment in reserve.” 

“It is a very little thing I have to ask,” Sylvester re- 
plied. “Simply the removal of two men from among 
the guard.” 

Again Rhoades stopped to look at the man shrewdly. 

“Why?” he asked, at length. 

“It will show you just how closely we are in touch,” 
the big man returned. “And. it may surprise you again 
to be told that there are among your staffs two men 
who are but awaiting a signal to blow your wonderful 
little invention to the bottom of the Bay. Even to us, 
that would be a pity. It has such commercial possi- 
bilities, you know.” 

“Two of your men?” Rhoades inquired quietly. “I 
know**that some have been added of late.” 

For a moment the stranger looked his reproach. 

“How you grieve me,” he returned, with a tone of 
regret. “I fear, Mr. Rhoades, that you are not about 
to live up to your opportunities. If we had secret 


184 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


agents in your employ, why should we tell you about 
them? Yet those two men have become so dangerous 
we have taken great risks to warn you. Our first in- 
terest just now is to save the submarine from dis- 
aster.’ , 

“That you may have it yourselves later on ?” Rhoades 
inquired., with a touch of bitterness. 

“Possibly, possibly,” the big man reflected. “But 
that is a matter which could be adjusted amicably be- 
tween us. Just now I am suggesting that we join our 
causes for the present, in order that we may have 
something to quarrel about later.” 

Cheever Rhoades searched the face of the big 
stranger for some trace of emotion, but found none. 
His features were so frank and open as to be disarm- 
ing, yet Rhoades felt he had to do with a subtle man, 
perhaps one who was placing his cards with consum- 
mate cleverness. If, as every outward symbol showed, 
the man Sylvester was playing an open game because 
of some strange whim, or because their interests were 
for the moment allied, then he could not afford to 
overlook the warning. But what if he wanted the 
men removed solely for some purpose of his own? 

“I think,” Rhoades temporized, “I would be in a 
better position to judge if I knew who were the men.” 

“We were in hopes that you would accept our friend- 
ship on trust,” Sylvester replied, with what seemed to 
his hearer a tone of disappointment. “I have the 
names here in my hand, on a sheet of paper. I would 
suggest that they be handed to Mr. Dawn, who could 
look after their removal in an effective way, which 
would relieve you.” 

Rhoades’s face hardened. 

“I think our interview is over,” he returned coldly. 
“If you have no more to say, I will escort you back to 
the end of the dock.” 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


185 


“Such a spirit of flint and fire,” the man replied re- 
flectively. “Upon second thought, I am ready to give 
yoli the names. The first is Rogersen.” 

“My head engineer. Go on.” 

“The second is Bradsworth.” 

“The foreman of the night guard.” 

Sylvester bowed and remained silent. 

It seemed to Rhoades that as he looked, some of the 
geniality faded from the other’s manner, or was it 
only that he had pierced through the shell and found 
the double purpose? For it came to him with fixed 
conviction that Rogersen and Bradsworth must be the 
two men who stood between Sylvester and his machi- 
nations. 

“Rogersen,” he returned slowly, “has been with me 
a year. Bradsworth for eight months. I have found 
them both capable and trustworthy men. Does it not 
seem absurd to ask me to accept your casual statement, 
knowing what we know of you, against their record ?” 

The big stranger sighed. 

“That’s what I told the boss,” he replied, “but he at 
least wanted to give you the chance. I want you to 
remember, Mr. Rhoades, that, whatever our ends, we 
work toward them honestly. We never strike with- 
out warning.” 

Sylvester paused and looked at the other question- 
ingly, but Rhoades’s face was still hard in the light of 
his convictions. 

“I fear your friends must be growing impatient,” 
Sylvester resumed. “Another cigarette, perhaps?” 

Then the big man faced about and led the way back 
to the efid of the dock, where the two parties still re- 
mained in' silence, facing each other. 

“Your patience, my friends, is gratifying,” he ad- 
dressed them ensemble. “If you will just give me 
your hand again, Mr. Dawn, I will shortly leave you 


186 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


to your peaceful reflections. But Mr. Inwood, I see, 
is showing signs of impatience. To bring a thrill to 
the blood, I will lay a little wager. With a standing 
start, I wager we can round the buoy off San Pablo 
before you clear the San Pedro Point.” 

“Done !” Inwood cried eagerly, as he began to scram- 
ble down into the Sadie. “Matt, whip her into shape. 
And the wager?” 

Already the man Sylvester had taken up his position 
in the stern of the launch, leaning far out over the side, 
and Inwood, glancing up quickly, saw that the flood of 
moonlight shone full upon his face. 

Inwood gave a start of amazement, for it was not 
the same face at all. 

“The wager?” the man said softly. “A debt of 
gratitude, to him who needs it first.” Then he turned 
quickly away. 

Harney Inwood glanced around cautiously. Matt 
Croucher, he could see, was busy with the engine. The 
others were still on the dock above, out of the line of 
vision. He alone had seen. 

“Ready !” Croucher pronounced, a moment later. 

The little warlike craft leaped away with a staccato 
bark of the engine that awakened startling echoes and 
left no doubt as to its power. 

Andre Merwin favored Matt Croucher with a wor- 
ried glance. 

* * * * * * 

The big man still held his post in the back of the 
launch, his gaze steadfastly fixed out over the water. 
Behind, through the silver of the moonlight, he could 
see two other boats following the course they had 
come. 

“How goes the race, Cactus?” asked a man up in 
front. 

“I think it is almost time,” replied the man who had 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


187 


called himself Sylvester. ‘‘The police boat is a good 
two miles behind. The Ozell, with Merwin’s blackleg 
crew, has endless confidence. She is within an eighth 
of a mile.” 

“All right. Throw the thing over, Cactus,” the 
other instructed. “I’m getting tired of your show.” 

“Very good, sir,” returned the man addressed as 
Cactus. “The moonlight here is wonderfully bright. 
They cannot fail to see it.” 

With that he hurled something far out from them, 
past the wash of the boat, something which shone white 
and glittering against the bed of water. Then he 
watched again, carefully, for a very short space of 
time. 

“They have found it,” he announced, with marked 
satisfaction. “They are picking it up.” 

Cactus turned his back on the scene he had watched 
so intently but a moment ago. 

“Now let’s show the Ozell our heels,” he suggested, 
as he slumped down into his seat. The craft shot 
away in a cloud of spray. 


XVII 


Andre Merwin’s humor was again generous, though 
a little strained, as he faced his confreres for the sec- 
ond time within as many days for the discussion of 
details which required the polish of his hand and wit. 
He was dressed with meticulous care, with the pre- 
cise garments which one might expect to find on a 
typical business man of Merwin’s standing, yet there 
was about the man an extreme coolness such as would 
characterize one ready to undertake an important mis- 
sion and who holds himself well in hand. The casual 
observer might not have noticed any change in Andre 
Merwin, but to Matt Croucher it seemed that his thin 
features were just a little more tightly compressed 
and that there was an unusually intense gleam in his 
eyes. 

Matt, who had been built for a life of ease, sighed. 
He began to tell himself that this was an unequal game 
he was playing. While he personally faced risks with 
a sort of brute courage, there before him was Andre 
Merwin finding in it one of the zests of life. Mer- 
win’s eyes were those of a man who feels the thrill of 
living, who finds in the battle something far greater 
than the thought of success at the end. As he looked, 
the impression somehow came to Croucher that Mer- 
win was feeling an intense satisfaction in the control 
he could now exert over the destinies of the men be- 
fore him. It almost seemed that he was willing to 
face dangers for the sheer joy of dragging others with 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


189 


him. But Matt could not be quite sure. He was posi- 
tive only on one point, that he wished himself well 
out of it, with his winnings, far away from Andre 
Merwin. 

“The time has come,” Merwin was saying, “when I 
personally must occupy the center of the stage for a 
brief time. Pray do not think, my dear friends, that I 
am trying to crowd you out of any of your claims to 
activity. It merely humors me to assume that portion 
of the work which requires the greatest degree of 
finesse. The importance of the mission cannot be ex- 
aggerated, but, my friends, I must admit the under- 
taking would have been impossible except for your 
wonderful work. Your experience of last night, King- 
way, will serve to emphasize upon all the need for 
alertness, the importance of attention to detail. It will 
serve to quicken your keenness of perception. It 
shows what high fates may hinge on small matters. I 
am told, Nallfar, that you would have passed that 
small floating object in the Bay last night which your 
friends out in front were so careless as to drop over- 
board, had it not been for Kingway. Yet that small 
object, trifling as it was, proved the one link necessary 
to complete my chain. It proves again how our scien- 
tific efficiency must triumph. Yet were we not so 
deeply interested, I could find the lack of foresight of 
our enemy almost regrettable. A wonderful system 
they have built up, only to totter to pieces under the 
strain of an emergency. 

“That object, Kingway, you say was a life-belt, and 
it had stamped on it the name of the launch, the 
Amorite. Of course, Kingway, you have checked up 
the ownership of the Amorite. A wonderful boat, 
that. It almost stirs up in me the pangs of acquisition. 
Faster than the Ozell. Armed to the teeth. Tis for- 
tunate, Kingway, you did not have to come to a 


190 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


brush with her. You had, I understand, only rifles.” 

' “Only rifles, perhaps,” that stolid young man re- 
plied grimly, “but had it not been for this life-belt 
they lost we would have fought them anyway, and 
won. The Amorite, sir, is owned by Mr. Markus 
Odelman.” 

Again Andre Merwin made the motions of one who 
laves his hands. His satisfaction was most ap- 
parent. 

“How that name returns like a cycle,” he commented 
softly. “Well, Mr. Markus Odelman, I can anticipate 
that we are about to have a most interesting inter- 
view. And Mr. Odelman? Of course, you know by 
this time who is Mr. Odelman.” 

“That part of the work was not difficult,” Nallfar 
informed. 

“Have you considered the possibility that results 
may have been obtained too easily?” Merwin inter- 
rupted shrewdly. 

“The name is an uncommon one,” Nallfar returned 
promptly enough. “There is but the one Markus Odel- 
man in the city, and he is a comparatively recent ar- 
rival. His resources must be wonderful, for he has 
taken one of the finest estates in the Annex. He has 
no signs of employment, and lives pretty much to him- 
self, though of late he has branched out a little. I be- 
lieve he has become a member of the same club as 
yourself, sir. His household consists of his wife, a 
son, who played some sort of an independent game at 
last night’s proceedings, and a Miss Lucia Langmuir, 
who, I believe, is kept in the house under the pretext 
that she is a companion and social secretary to Mrs. 
Odelman. The Odelmans, with the exception of the 
son, have traveled a great deal of late. Three months 
ago they were at Honolulu, started for Argentine, 
changed their plans and came back here rapidly. The 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


191 


servants are all recent employees and know nothing of 
the family.” 

Andre Merwin nodded in approval. 

“Very good, Nallfar,” he complimented; “very good, 
indeed. The details you have learned of the man fit 
in most admirably. If anything was needed to convict 
him in our eyes, you have furnished it, Nallfar. The 
man is doubtless clever, in his own way, a sort of dull 
way. He was not the man for a big enterprise like 
this. His lack of care in one detail alone is great 
enough to offend my artistic sense. The question of 
employment, had he raised only a mask, was one of 
his most obvious essentials. Well, well, I fear that I 
will go to him prejudiced. 

“But why this rude interruption, Benson? Have 
you not learned that boisterousness and lack of self- 
control are the greatest of man’s weaknesses ?” 

The latter words, delivered in a slightly higher and 
more penetrating tone, were aimed at the youth in 
question, for Benson had forced his way through the 
door somewhat precipitately and with great lack of 
decorum. It was not a part of his usual cold reserve, 
and was therefore all the more astonishing. 

“The circumstances are my excuse,” he pleaded. 
“Rogersen and Bradsworth have disappeared!” 

Merwin’s brows contracted sharply and all the com- 
placency dropped out of his manner. 

“Be more explicit,” he returned, as he composed him- 
self with an effort. “Just what do you mean by dis- 
appeared ?” 

“I mean that when Bradsworth left the night watch 
this morning he was invited to take a ride in a motor, 
driven by a stranger. He did not arrive home, and 
has not been seen since. I only heard an hour ago by 
’phone. A message from his house. When I hurried 
to the dock to inquire, I learned about Rogersen.” 


192 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


“Well. What about Rogersen ?” Merwin demanded, 
with the last trace of his suavity rapidly leaving him. 

“Rogersen was stopped on the dock during the noon 
hour by three men dressed as police officials, but who, 
I learn, were not officers at all. What happened be- 
tween Rogersen and these men, no one seems to know. 
But he was not taken to police headquarters, or to 
any of the districts. They hurried him into a motor 
boat, and when last seen they were heading north past 
Alcatraz.” 

For the moment the mask was down. Andre Mer- 
win’s face shone out with such savagery that even 
Matt Croucher quailed. 

“It seems to have happened quite without warning. 
The men are not to blame,” Benson ventured. 

“Who says it was without warning?” Merwin re- 
turned, in a voice so low and piercing as to bring nerv- 
ous shadows even to the eyes of Benson. “Were we 
not warned last night ? Were these two men not men- 
tioned? And did I not caution them expressly to be 
on their guard? But I am forgetting. You had not 
heard the story of last night, Benson. Well, never 
mind. If that is the type of service one is to get, they 
were better dead than with us. Do you hear, the rest 
of you who know the story?” 

The chill of disquietude had swept over them, leav- 
ing the features of Merwin’s followers cold and sullen. 
The calm confidence of a moment before had van- 
ished, and in its place there seemed to have entered the 
first spirit of doubt. Andre Merwin, quicker than the 
men themselves to interpret that change, was the first 
to sense its danger, and was so the first to bring him- 
self back again under his massive self-possession. 
Even to Merwin that was an effort, for he was seeing, 
for the first time in his life, the shades of fear on the 
countenances of men who had known only one law, 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


193 


and that, his obedience. But then again, he told him- 
self, that fear might have been of his own power. So 
Andre Merwin paced the floor until he was himself 
again. 

“You must pardon me, Benson,” he said, at length, 
in a voice rich with its old blandness, and quite as well 
controlled as it had been before Benson’s announce- 
ment. “I think it was the knowledge that I had men 
as lacking in resourcefulness as Rogersen and Brads- 
worth must have been, that impressed me more than 
the loss of the men themselves. As for the men, they 
do not count.” 

“But they were the only two who have access to 
the ” 

Merwin interrupted the reminder with a gentle wave 
of his hand. 

“You forget, Benson,” he smiled suavely, “there is 
still yourself, than whom there is no man more trusted. 
There is still Andre Merwin, and sometimes it seems 
to me that the greater things of life are the ones that 
a man should do with his own hands. But have you 
no idea as to the gnat that has been annoying us thus ?” 

Benson’s eyes darkened. 

“I think you are quite underestimating Inwood,” he 
returned evasively. 

For a moment Andre Merwin looked at his fol- 
lower in silence. 

“Benson, just what have you against Inwood?” he 
inquired coolly. “Or is this but one of your intui- 
tions ?” 

“I have nothing against the man,” Benson returned 
coldly, “except to the extent that he may be standing 
in our way. I have felt of late, perhaps far more than 
I have seen ” 

“And your intuitions at times have been quite worth 
heeding,” Merwin interrupted. “There is something 


194 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


just a little queer about you, Benson. You are so cold 
as to be almost bloodless. You are not quite human, 
Benson. As you work toward your fixed ends, you 
trample down all human considerations. There are 
times when you almost frighten me, for yourself, of 
course.” 

“As you will, sir,” the youth returned, with unmov- 
ing features. “I was about to add that while I have 
no absolute proof, the car in which Bradsworth was 
driven away answers the description of Inwood’s.” 

This time, Andre Merwin was a much longer time 
in silence. 

“It is just possible, Benson,” he reflected at length, 
“that you are quite right about Inwood. It may also 
be possible that we are condemning Bradsworth too 
soon. He would know Inwood quite well. If not In- 
wood, then his car. And I also call to mind that 
Inwood was quite firm in his beliefs last night that our 
midnight messenger was worth trusting, that these two 
men should be relieved of their posts. Well, well, it 
is just possible that he is growing too inquisitive.” 

“There is the further fact,” Benson went on relent- 
lessly, “that Inwood spent the evening at the Odel- 
mans. The Langmuir girl, I admit, seemed the mo- 
tive, but it is just possible ” 

“What a wonderful brain you have, Benson !” Mer- 
win nodded contemplatively. “It must be that queer 
strain in you that I noticed but a moment ago. How 
gently and subtly you insinuate things. You feel, 
without doubt, that Inwood is playing into the hands 
of our enemies. You know the price which all such 
men must pay, yet so gentle-hearted and kindly dis- 
posed are you, you hesitate to put the charge into so 
many words. It is most regrettable, but we have the 
motive.” 

Andre Merwin’s sigh seemed quite superfluous, and 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


195 


quite out of accord with the sudden lights which shone 
in his eyes as he glanced slowly over his followers. 

“You were thinking of me, perhaps,” Kingway sug- 
gested, as he rose quickly to his feet. “There is more 
work for me to do.” 

“And you too seem to think there is a price which 
must be paid by traitors?” Merwin questioned softly, 
as he looked into the eyes of the stolid youth. “Your 
ideas, Kingway, are crude and quite monochrome.” 

“I am entirely at your service, sir,” he returned 
stiffly. 

“We will see,” Merwin crooned to himself ; “we will 
see. Who knows ? It may even be necessary to invite 
that meddlesome young man aboard the yacht.” 

Kingway’s eyes glowed, but Matt Croucher shivered 
involuntarily. 


XVIII 


Markus Odelman had the air of a man who awaits 
a guest, yet it was equally true that he had invited 
none.. The forenoon he had spent in wandering about 
the spacious lawns and gardens, as deeply appreciative 
of their beauties as though there was no other thought 
in the world. As the day grew more advanced, he re- 
sisted the invitation of Allen Odelman to drop down- 
town for a club luncheon, though such gratification had 
long been one of his weaknesses, and though Mrs. 
Odelman had left quite early in the morning. After 
a somewhat lonely and silent meal in the great house, 
he definitely rejected the suggestion of Harney Inwood 
that he take a spin in the park. He was also obliged 
to inform Inwood that Lucia Langmuir had accom- 
panied Mrs. Odelman in the early morning on some 
mission concerning which he had made no inquiries. 
The young man’s disappointment was marked, his fol- 
lowing suggestion that Odelman occupy the adjoining 
seat in the roadster was purely perfunctory. But had 
Inwood’s invitation been filled with the utmost warmth, 
Odelman must necessarily have refused it. It even 
seemed that in spite of his ordinary courtesy, he was 
not encouraging the younger man to prolong his visit. 

Markus Odelman had expected a visitor, but it be- 
came quite plain that it was not Harney Inwood. As 
the afternoon drew on, he composed himself in the 
great library. He dipped into one book after another, 
but shortly found that his composure was only a pose. 

196 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


197 


At length, he began to look at his watch casually from 
time to time, as might a man who begins to doubt his 
own judgment. Only, in the case of Markus Odelman, 
it was judgment of human nature, concerning which it 
hardly seemed possible to himself that he could have 
erred. As the afternoon shadows began to lengthen 
and the first spindrift wafted in from the ocean, Odel- 
man rose from his easy-chair in anticipation. The 
chair had been so placed as to command a complete 
view of the lawns in front, and he could now see that 
a strange car had stopped directly in front of the 
house. 

When a man alighted from the tonneau, all the un- 
certainty of the past hours was washed from Markus 
Odelman’s countenance as with the brush of an artist. 
The man, he could see, was tall and slim, with sharp, 
shrewd features which had their own knack of pleas- 
antry, and he was dressed with the wonderful care of 
a typical business man who seeks to make a favorable 
impression. As he walked briskly toward the house, 
Odelman told himself that here was a man smooth and 
versatile in the ways of life. 

Markus Odelman stepped abruptly back from the 
open French windows, seated himself once more, and 
calmly took up one of his favorite authors. The vis- 
itor, he knew, must pass those windows to reach the 
doorway. 

A moment later, Odelman glanced up with lazy in- 
difference at the man who had paused before the open 
casement, and who now stood, hat in hand, leaning 
slightly forward, with a winning smile on his lips. 

“This is indeed fortunate/’ the man murmured. 
“Mr. Markus Odelman, unless my eyes and my judg- 
ment deceive me.” 

“Neither have erred,” Odelman returned, without 
encouragement, and without rising from his position. 


198 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


‘‘I trust you will be kind enough to overlook the 
informality of my introduction,” the visitor continued, 
quite unperturbed. “My name is Merwin — Andre 
Merwin, of the legal firm of Merwin, Langton and 
Pendick. We are, I believe, members of the same club, 
though that, pardon me, was not the inspiration of this 
intrusion.” 

“What can I do for you, Mr. Merwin?” Odelman 
asked, with a slight relaxation of his tones, and this 
time he rose from his seat. “Club membership, I find, 
has served as an introduction in more ways than 
one.” 

Andre Merwin chose to overlook the obvious impli- 
cation in the words. He became, if anything, more 
suave. 

“Nothing, I assure you, which had not your interests 
at heart could have induced me to infringe upon your 
hospitality in this manner,” he replied, stepping for- 
ward just a little. “Astonishing as it may seem to 
you, there are matters which have for us a mutual 
interest.” 

“I gather that you wish to talk with me,” Odelman 
returned formally. “Do you care to come in the li- 
brary, or will we sit on the terrace ?” 

“That is a matter which I leave entirely to your 
discretion, and which can be decided only by one who 
has a knowledge of domestic arrangements,” Merwin 
continued. “Let me explain my rudeness of a mo- 
ment ago. It was not inherent, I assure you, but 
merely prompted by a desire to attract the attention of 
as few people as possible. My car, you see, has already 
left.” 

Odelman regarded his visitor for a moment studi- 
ously, as though attempting to weigh the man in his 
own mind; then he broke into a short, good-natured 
laugh. 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


199 


“I must confess you are different from the men of 
my every-day life,” he admitted. “But I take it you 
are suggesting that your conversation is to be of that 
nature which does not require listeners.” 

“Your discernment is wonderful,” Merwin returned. 

“Then we will be quite comfortable here in the li- 
brary,” Odelman assured. “To be quite frank, except 
for the servants, I am alone in the house. They fre- 
quently run away and leave me a day to myself, and, 
to tell you the truth, I rather enjoy it. An unsociable 
chap, they call me. But pardon me, Mr. Merwin, shall 
I ring for coffee ?” 

Merwin held up his hand in protest. 

“Thank you, I will have nothing more than one of 
those excellent cigarettes. The aroma is delightful.” 

As Merwin smoked luxuriously, he seemed almost 
to have forgotten the object of his mission. He had 
observed that Markus Odelman, whether through acci- 
dent or a studied knowledge of the building, had so 
placed him that whatever light penetrated to the mass- 
ive room fell full in his face, while Odelman’s face 
remained in the shadows. 

Odelman remained silent as well, in a ruminative 
manner. It was plain that though he had awaited his 
guest for so many hours, he had no desire to smooth 
out the earlier moments of his visit. 

“Your stay in the city, I presume, will not be long?” 
Merwin began tentatively. 

Odelman waved one arm with an admiring gesture. 

“The surroundings fascinate me,” he replied simply. 
“The flowers, the air, the ocean. They are charming.” 

“Yet somehow I had gathered, that yours was the 
life of a rover.” 

“Of the rover who is forever seeking a place where 
he may come to rest,” Odelman returned absently. “I 
think I have found it, Mr. Merwin.” 


200 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


“ ’Tis perhaps the love of country, which stirs one’s 
blood more at a time like this than ever before. Our 
country, in times of peace, we accept casually, as our 
God-given right. But just now, when the shadow 
hangs darkly above us, it seems like a priceless 
gift.” 

Odelman looked at his guest curiously, but Andre 
Merwin bore the scrutiny well, as a man who dreams 
idly for the moment. 

“Doubtless that is it,” Odelman rejoined; “I hardly 
know. I am not a philosopher, like yourself.” 

“I feel very keenly upon such matters,” Merwin re- 
turned, more quickly. “And that, without doubt, ex- 
plains my intrusion here this afternoon. I forgot to 
point out that while I am head of the legal firm whose 
name I have mentioned, I am as well the representa- 
tive of the Department of State, at present engaged on 
secret investigations.” 

“Indeed,” Odelman returned, in an interested way. 

“Mr. Odelman,” Merwin protested, “you make my 
mission a very difficult one. Does not the fact of my 
visit, and the information I have just given you, carry 
to your mind any association of ideas?” 

“Not the slightest,” Odelman replied readily. 

“Unless, perhaps,” he resumed, after a moment’s de- 
liberation, “you have discovered that I am a man of 
idleness and wish to impress me into the service. I 
presume it is a time, Mr. Merwin, when all men will 
be needed, and I, in my idle way, had not thought of 
that. Well, if I can be of any service ” 

Andre Merwin shook his head slowly. The man 
was more difficult than even he had ever imagined. 
Fortunate, indeed, that he had not sent any of his 
underlings. 

“Since I am forced to speak more plainly,” Merwin 
went on, with a slight stiffening in his voice, “I might 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


201 


say that the course of my secret investigations have 
led me to you.” 

“As I said before,” Odelman returned patiently, “if 
I can be of any service to you, I am quite at your 
command. You almost shame me, Mr. Merwin, to 
think that I have not volunteered some of my time 
before. My only excuse is that idleness breeds 
thoughtlessness, and they are associate evils. I can 
feel that already I am looking forward to a little ac- 
tivity.” 

For the fraction of a minute, during which Andre 
Merwin remained silent, he was wondering if, after 
all, those tools of his had not blundered again. It was 
a bad moment, a situation which required determina- 
tion and resource, if all the work of the past was not 
to be lost in the flashing of an eye. 

“I fear, Mr. Odelman, it is simply that you do not 
wish to understand me,” Merwin spoke more softly. 
“The investigations of the Department of State do 
not lead to a man merely to ask his cooperation. They 
lead to him to ask that he refrain from certain occu- 
pations in which he may be interested or engaged.” 

Markus Odelman drew himself slowly to a more 
erect posture in his chair. It was quite impossible even 
to attempt to misunderstand the inference back of 
the words, but the only expression on his countenance 
seemed to be one of open and utter astonishment. He 
held his cigarette poised halfway to his lips, and his 
eyes, though wide, were fixed firmly upon the guest. 
Odelman remained in that pose for a minute or more 
before replying. 

“My dear Mr. Merwin,” he replied slowly, as one 
who is puzzled, “are you sure that you are quite well ?” 

“Not only well, Mr. Odelman,” Merwin went on, 
with some inward tremors of doubt, “but thoroughly 
apprised as to my facts. I am the type of man who 


202 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


moves slowly, but surely. I may say that I am quite 
relentless in my service to the State, yet I balance that 
with the utmost charity and consideration for those 
whom it becomes my unfortunate duty to check in 
their ways of living.” 

Strangely enough, Odelman’s astonishment dropped 
away, and there came an expression which baffled his 
visitor. 

“You are implying, perhaps, that when, in the course 
of your duties, it becomes necessary to remove an 
offender, you have it accomplished as gently as pos- 
sible?” he asked, and in the words was the first en- 
couragement which Andre Merwin had yet found. So 
he breathed a little more easily, and there was a little 
extra confidence in his manner, as he replied. 

“The mere fact that I am here, in my private ca- 
pacity, that I come, so far as the world knows, as a 
friend, should be ample proof of that,” Merwin con- 
tinued. “The machinery of the State is implacable. 
Individuals, to it, have no more identity than grains of 
sand. So I, doubtless from a mistaken sense of hu- 
manity, have sometimes been able to accomplish the 
aims of the State without putting the full machinery 
into motion. That, of course, rests entirely with the 
individual. Reasonable men, in the past, have been 
able to see the force of my arguments, and so fall in 
with my suggestions. The State has lost nothing. Its 
ends have been accomplished, and the individual has 
had an opportunity to reflect on the qualities of mercy, 
remembering at the same time that he is always under 
surveillance, and so is rendered harmless. The method 
is my own. It is quite uncommon, I assure you. It 
may be absurdly humanitarian, but we will not discuss 
that aspect. Let us say that it is merely my whim, and 
let us congratulate the man who is ^ble to profit by it.” 

There was something so exceedingly personal in the 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


203 


last few words, something so confidential and yet en- 
couraging in Merwin’s manner, that there were but 
two possible courses left open to Markus Odelman. 
He might have risen and shown the man the door, but 
for some reason best known to himself, he chose the 
other course. When he answered, there was not even 
the injured indignation which one might have expected 
to find in his voice. When Andre Merwin discovered 
this, he settled back in his chair with the attitude of a 
man who dominates the situation. It had been a dan- 
gerous interview, yet he had come through the shift- 
ing sands and could now feel more solid ground be- 
neath his feet. 

“This is very interesting,” Odelman replied simply. 
“I should think you must be an exceptionally valuable 
man to the State.” 

“That is doubtless why I was assigned to this par- 
ticular case,” Merwin returned pointedly. 

“Yes ?” There was mild inquiry in Odelman’s reply. 

“The case which led to you,” Merwin reminded. 

“Perhaps you will be kind enough to tell me about 
it,” Odelman suggested, as he offered his visitor an- 
other cigarette. 

“You are an admirable fencer,” Merwin compli- 
mented, with a smile. “You succeed in making my 
task extremely unpleasant and difficult.” 

“Would it not be well to remove the buttons from 
the foils,” the host advised. “I assure you, I am quite 
as capable in one capacity as the other.” 

Andre Merwin laughed, but not from merriment. 

“Since the suggestion is yours, it relieves me of any 
discourtesy toward your hospitality,” he returned. “I 
am referring to that nebulous organization which elects 
to be known as the Unknown Quantity ” 

Merwin paused to study the effect of his words, but 
if he had hoped to find amazement, or any other emo- 


204 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


tion, for that matter, upon the countenance of his host, 
he must have been disappointed. 

“I perceive you are about to tell me a State, secret,” 
Odelman returned smoothly. “Let me warn you that 
I think it quite injudicious on the part of an official in 
your high position.” 

“I doubt, my dear Mr. Odelman, if there is anything 
even I can tell you about the Unknown Quantity,” 
Merwin declared, with the. attitude of a man who has 
at last found a weak spot in the other’s armor. 

“Then why discuss the matter at all?” Odelman re- 
turned blandly. “You have just given me the impres- 
sion that you are an unusually capable official.” 

Andre Merwin had prided himself on his finesse, 
his delicacy of approach, yet now he paused for a mo- 
ment, a puzzled frown slightly marring the evenness of 
his features. Markus Odelman, he could see, was 
varying somewhat from his earlier estimate. 

“Must I tell you, then, what I know about this or- 
ganization?” he asked. 

“I can assure you, my dear fellow, there is no obli- 
gation on your part,” his host rejoined. “If you have 
referred to a State secret in an unguarded moment, I 
am not the type of man to press for particulars. Shall 
we discuss something else?” 

“But the matter concerns you, most intimately,” 
Merwin charged, and he could feel the smooth edges 
of his diplomacy slipping away. 

“That alters matters entirely,” Odelman said calmly. 
“I am always most interested in anything which con- 
cerns me.” 

“Then you wish me to give particulars ?” 

“Without seeming to be rude, I have been doing my 
utmost for some minutes to extract the facts,” Odel- 
man suggested. 

Merwin began to feel slightly uncomfortable. The 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


205 


relish of the occasion, he appreciated, was not entirely 
his. There were some accounts which he was already 
charging up against Markus Odelman. 

“The facts are simple enough,” Merwin returned 
baldly, “though why you force me to tell them is 
quite beyond me. The organization to which I have 
referred is an enemy of the State, particularly so at a 
time like this when the shadow of war hangs over us. 
It has peculiar ideas of its own, which you know too 
well for me to attempt to recite them all. The guise 
under which it operates is that it is hostile to all war, 
and all the appurtenances of war. It seems to have 
back of it a wonderful fund with which to buy up all 
war inventions, ostensibly for the purpose of destroy- 
ing them, though that part of it is something which I 
do not credit. I would prefer to say that it is repre- 
senting some foreign power and is taking this diaboli- 
cal method of keeping them supplied with as many of 
the newer inventions as possible. But that is some- 
thing which we can overlook for the moment. The 
point is that they have directed their attention to the 
greatest wonder of the age, a submarine recently in- 
vented by a friend of mine, and are now seeking to 
wrest it from the State. My friend, whose name is 
Mr. Cheever Rhoades, was negotiating for its transfer 
to the State, when the plans were suddenly stolen from 
his house in a most mysterious manner. The theft, 
however, was preceded by an offer of purchase, which 
he was unable to accept, but there is no use going into 
the details, under the circumstances. The point which 
I wish to impress upon you, Mr. Odelman, is that 
while a propaganda, such as I have outlined, might 
have some slight justification during times of peace, 
provided, of course, that it is sincere, it should have 
no place in the heart of any loyal American while we 
are on the brink of the cauldron known as war. It is 


206 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


to express those convictions, Mr. Odelman, that I have 
come to you in this manner, privately, without seeking 
to exercise the full jurisdiction of my office. I have 
felt that you are a reasoning man, that you can be in- 
duced to view this from the national standpoint rather 
than from the personal, and that you are sufficiently 
great at a time like this to sink all minor considerations 
and place the nation first.” 

When Andre Merwin paused, he observed that a 
cigarette had quite burned out between Markus O del- 
man’s fingers, and that the latter’s eyes were wide with 
wonder — or was it admiration? Merwin drew one 
hand delicately across his forehead, for he had grown 
quite enthused in that discourse. Odelman seemed to 
return to himself with a start. 

“All this is very wonderful and interesting,” he 
murmured. “It hardly seems possible that such a thing 
could exist in real life, but since you have told me, I 
can have no option but to believe. I envy you, indeed, 
Mr. Merwin, for the great work you can do in the 
national interest.” 

“I may say,” Merwin proceeded cautiously, “that 
the case has not been a particularly difficult one, ow- 
ing to circumstances which helped. It was purely 
chance, I assure you.” 

“Coupled with your wonderful intuition for grasp- 
ing opportunities,” Odelman returned, with such a 
strange inflection in his voice that Merwin paused and 
considered matters carefully before continuing. 

“Call it intuition, or what you will,” he resumed. 
“We will simplify the whole matter by saying that we 
have been fortunate enough to learn the head of the 
organization.” 

Markus Odelman’s eyes narrowed speculatively. 

“So,” he muttered, almost inaudibly. 

“Though chance has placed me in the position where 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


207 


you now find, me, Mr. Odelman,” Merwin continued, 
with the air of a man who has the upper hand, “it is 
still one of my weaknesses to admire the intelligence 
of a man who is capable of building up such an organ- 
ization as you have done. Perhaps, in times of peace, 
I could have sympathized with such a movement my- 
self, provided, of course, that it is founded on sin- 
cerity. The great, broad, humanitarian principles carry 
to me a certain appeal. It is doubtless because they 
strike a harmony with that chord in my nature which 
makes me pursue my investigations in private rather 
than in the limelight of jurisdiction. Mr. Odelman, 
permit me to say again that I admire your intelligence. 
That is why I have come to you in every confidence 
that you are a reasoning man, and will be willing to 
admit defeat, at the hands of the State. There is no 
dishonor in that.” 

Markus Odelman turned the cigarette over and over 
in his hand, and appeared to be studying the blackened 
end as though it was something which he had never 
seen before. He did not have the air of a man who 
contemplates fight, nor was there any fear in his man- 
ner. 

“I quite agree with you, Mr. Merwin,” he returned, 
at length. “There can be no dishonor in defeat at the 
hands of the State. But you have made cer- 
tain charges, in a vague way, which doubtless is your 
nature. You have done me the honor of implying that 
it was my brain which was great enough to plan this 
remarkable organization which you have called the 
Unknown Quantity. Would you mind being just a 
little more definite and stating on what you have based 
your conclusions. My curiosity, I presume, is to be 
pardoned ?” 

“On the sum of things,” Merwin went on hastily, 
“only one of which it will be necessary to bring to 


208 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


your attention. I quite appreciate, Mr. Odelman, that 
you can assume an air of ignorance concerning the 
matter which I am about to disclose, but the facts 
which I give you should appeal to your intelligence and 
show the futility of evasion. You recall a man by the 
name of Langstaff, who was so foolish as to ride a 
bicycle into Mr. Rhoades and Mr. Inwood at noon 
yesterday ?” 

Merwin paused abruptly. Even he had not looked 
for that perceptible start of surprise which came to 
the other’s features. 

“Go on,” Odelman suggested simply. 

“The man quite naturally fell into our hands,” Mer- 
win resumed. “The fact that he has talked brought 
me here. I beg of you, Mr. Odelman, do not hold it 
against Langstaff. He was indeed obstinate, but you 
know there are methods at the command of the State 
which loosen the tongues of individuals. Such violence 
is repugnant to me. I call it nothing short of torture, 
but even I must sink my scruples and my humanitarian 
instincts when the State is endangered. Langstaff 
has disclosed many facts. He will doubtless disclose 
more as they are needed. It is only you who can save 
him from the physical discomfort of having them 
wrested from him ” 

Markus Odelman waved his visitor into silence. His 
features and his manner had changed in some way 
quite inexplicable to Andre Merwin, yet it seemed the 
presage of weakness. Odelman even rose to his feet 
and crossed over to the open window, from which he 
looked for many minutes out upon the spacious lawns 
now darkening under the lengthening shadows. At 
last he returned to his easy-chair. 

“Suppose,” he said, slowly, tentatively, like a man 
feeling his way, “suppose, just for the sake of argu- 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


209 


ment, I was to acknowledge this man Langstaff . What 
then ?” 

“It flatters me to think I was correct when I judged 
you to be a reasoning man,” Merwin replied readily, 
and the relish, for its delay, was all the more piquant. 
“With such an admission or acknowledgment on your 
part, the matter becomes quite simple. Remember al- 
ways that I, as representative of the State, wish only 
to preserve its traditions. There is not in my mind 
the first thought of exacting punishment. I think I 
have already explained that quite thoroughly. As the 
matter now stands, you, as organizer of this secret 
society, have aimed to get possession of a certain sub- 
marine and certain plans. The plans I presume you 
have by this time. The submarine is quite beyond 
your reach. This afternoon it was removed to the 
Navy Yards on Mare Island. From that angle, you 
have lost, irrevocably. As to the plans, since your aim 
is only their destruction, such action could accomplish 
nothing, for Mr. Rhoades can redraw them in a few 
weeks. As to your organization, our knowledge has 
crippled it. Its chief strength lay in its ability to strike 
in the dark, but now that we are on guard, and its 
object has been frustrated, there is nothing left but to 
admit defeat, as gracefully as may be, Mr. Odelman.” 

As Andre Merwin spoke, Markus Odelman’s figure 
had seemed to shrink back into his chair, until now he 
was like a man seated upon the small of his back. His 
elbows were thrust out widely, until each rested upon 
an arm of the chair, and the fingers which met in 
front were toying with his chin and his lips. The 
lower portion of his face seemed hidden, but from 
above his hands his eyes were peering out with a rest- 
lessness which left Andre Merwin elated. 

“Let us suppose still further,” Odelman measured 


210 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


his words. “Suppose I was willing to admit all you 
have said, which seems positive enough on the face of 
it. You did not come here for nothing, Mr. Merwin. 
You were about to make a suggestion.” 

“You are quite too mild in your choice of words,” 
Merwin replied more firmly. It was time, he could 
see, to tighten his grip on this man. “Perhaps I came 
to issue an ultimatum, or to display to you the quali- 
ties of mercy. You are quite powerless to offend fur- 
ther. Yet you can produce something which the State 
requires, which will save it considerable annoyance. 
My suggestion, then, is this: It remains for you to 
turn the plans over to me, its representative, after 
which I, on my part, can assure you its eyes will be 
closed to the past.” 

Markus Odelman rose to his feet nervously. 

“You are making a straight offer ?” he demanded. 

“I am,” Merwin returned confidently. 

“And if I refuse?” 

“There would remain the unpleasant duty of placing 
yourself and several others, whose names have been 
furnished by Langstaff, in custody,” Merwin replied, 
with finality. “And Mr. Rhoades would doubtless have 
all the trouble of redrawing the plans. As I have 
tried to point out, Mr. Odelman, I am quite implacable 
in service to the nation, yet when a man shows the 
judgment which you have displayed up to the present 
it would hardly seem necessary to resort to drastic 
measures. To be quite frank, what we want is the 
plans, not you and your crew.” 

“Why not let me turn them over to Rhoades ?” 

Merwin shook his head with the air of a man who 
has issued his edict. 

“We do not care to take further chances,” he ex- 
plained. 

Markus Odelman sat down again, and as he re- 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


211 


sumed his earlier pose, he seemed for a while quite lost 
to his surroundings, so there was plenty of scope for 
Merwin to watch him shrewdly. He was a long time 
in that position, like a man who is in no haste to ac- 
cept defeat. To Merwin, as he watched, it seemed 
that Odelman was reviewing the situation, step by 
step, and as each minute went by the man sank farther 
and farther back in his chair. 

Andre Merwin was already tasting the fruits of vic- 
tory. His eyes grew brighter as he thought of the fu- 
ture, and as he recalled the manner in which he had 
worsted the enemy his vanity was tickled. On the 
whole, it had been artistically achieved, such as he 
would wish it. The battle had been quite worth its 
dangers. The whole situation was titillating to his 
fancy. 

Then quite abruptly Markus Odelman leaned for- 
ward in his chair. There was in his eyes no sign of 
defeat; there was only a keen admiration. 

“My dear Mr. Merwin, I think you are, without ex- 
ception, one of the cleverest men I have ever had the 
good fortune to meet,” he returned, with a suavity 
quite dangerous from its softness; “clever enough to 
know when you have played the game to the limit. 
Would you mind telling me just what brought you 
here ?” 

The words, together with the forcefulness of Odel- 
man’s manner, came to Andre Merwin as a thunder- 
clap. In that instant he could feel the reins of dom- 
inance slipping from his grasp. There was something 
here quite out of the ordinary cycle of human reason- 
ing. But a moment ago, Markus Odelman was a 
beaten man, cringing in his chair, on the point of yield- 
ing to the ultimatum which Merwin had submitted, yet 
now he no longer had the manner of one who hedges 
or maneuvers for position. Odelman’s features rather 


212 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


had that complacent tolerance of a man who has baited 
a trap, and has found it successful. 

Andre Merwin stared for a moment in amazement 
before attempting to reply. It was one of the few 
times in his life when he was caught off his guard. 

“Why! Why?” he hesitated, with what front he 
could command. “To get the plans, of course.” 

“You will pardon me if I point out that I was aware 
of that fact even before you stepped from your car,” 
Odelman went on smoothly. “I was referring to your 
secondary motive.” 

Merwin, it seemed, possessed wonderful powers of 
recuperation. By this time he was smiling again. 

“I have stated my terms,” he returned, with a re- 
vival of his former blandness. “If you choose to read 
all sorts of absurd motives into my visit, it must be 
you who suffers.” 

The glance which Odelman bent upon his visitor 
had in it a peculiar mixture of curiosity and admira- 
tion. 

“What a wonderful fighter you are, Merwin,” he 
mused. “How unfortunate that we were not linked 
together in the one cause. But I will not prolong your 
suffering. I will simply state that it was I who had 
Rogersen and Bradsworth removed.” 

Through the moments that Merwin sat motionless, 
his face became white and strained. The mask had 
been torn from his face by rough hands. The futility 
of continuing his pose had been forced home by that 
one short sentence. Yet already, while the ruin of his 
plans still left him dazed, the keenness of his brain 
was building again. 

“Perhaps you alone know the significance of that,” 
Odelman pressed on at length. “You, at least, know 
what I must have known before those two men could 
have been removed. Merwin, you did remarkably well, 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


213 


considering your limitations. But you must remember 
that while you have had but two days in which to trace 
events to me, I have had some months of undivided 
attention to devote to those same events.” 

Markus Odelman paused, but Merwin did not an- 
swer. His eyes seemed hard and staring straight be- 
fore him. 

“During those months,” Odelman went on, “I have 
had two special operatives who have given their time 
to your activities. The skill with which you have de- 
veloped your case has been most interesting to watch, 
and it has aroused my keenest admiration. As I said 
a moment ago, it also inspired my regret that we could 
not work hand in hand. But I do not speak as an 
alarmist. Your case has not necessarily become a hope- 
less one. The mere fact that you are here proves 
otherwise.” 

Merwin’s gaze came back from its steady contem- 
plation of the future, and it rested for a moment on 
Odelman. 

“Go on,” he said briefly. 

“Did I not have some use for you, my dear Mr. 
Merwin,” his host returned smoothly, “you would not 
be here at this moment.” 

Andre Merwin’s fingers reached out nervously for 
a cigarette. 

“You mean,” he said slowly, “that you threw out 
the clews which led me here ?” 

“My dear fellow, you must not reproach yourself 
for that,” Odelman returned hastily. “Remember al- 
ways that where you have had days I have had months. 
The fact that I have not destroyed your plans at any 
time during the past two months should also have your 
favorable consideration. I am going to be perfectly 
frank with you, Mr. Merwin. We have both been 
stalemated. Neither can move now without the other. 


214 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


I may tell you just as frankly that had I been able to 
make my next move alone, you would not have paid me 
this most interesting visit to-day.” 

“I am listening,” Merwin replied, as the dulling 
lights in his eyes grew bright again. 

“That makes it necessary for me to tell you that my 
wireless picked up the message you received yesterday. 
Purely chance, I assure you. By the way, you should - 
adopt a more complex cipher. That was quite easy to 
decode. It was extremely interesting, but it omitted 
the one thing essential to me. You are to meet the 
chief, the great man whose mind rules all, but it neg- 
lected to say where. Had I known that, Mr. Mer- 
win, I would not have troubled you to visit me to- 
day.” 

“You think possibly that I will tell ?” Merwin asked, 
with a touch of mockery. 

“I think only that you are a sensible man, even as 
you thought of me but a few minutes ago. The situa- 
tion is this : You have notified the man high up that 
all is ready for his coming, yet when he comes what 
have you to offer? Alas, nothing.” 

“Thanks to your meddling,” Merwin broke in. 

“But what does the man high up care from where 
the prize comes, so long as it comes ? Did I but know 
the meeting place, Mr. Merwin, how capably could I 
fill your place!” 

“Then this talk of yours about the destruction of 
war implements was but a pose?” Merwin demanded 
suddenly. 

“Even as your love of the State is but a pose,” Odel- 
man agreed. “My dear man, I treasure these imple- 
ments and the part they will play in the war quite too 
much to destroy them now. But we are wandering 
from the point. The thing which you would pass on 
to your chief, I have ” 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


215 


“You admit it?” Merwin asked, with a swift glance 
about the room. 

“Certainly,” Odelman replied coldly. “But don’t 
think I would be such a fool as to keep them here. 
They are at this moment in a safety deposit vault 
downtown. But we wander again. I have you stale- 
mated. The men with whom you thought to blow up the 
submarine are now in a position where they can do no 
harm. The submarine itself is quite beyond your reach, 
or hope of capture, for you were quite right when 
you mentioned the Navy Yards, though it was Donegal 
Dawn who sent the vessel there. The plans are in a 
safety vault. What have you to offer the chief ? Noth- 
ing but failure. No wonder your lips were white but 
a moment ago. On the other hand, what have I to 
offer ? The plans, which mean everything to you and 
to the man high up. Yet I do not know the place of 
rendezvous. You see the position, Mr. Merwin?” 

“I appreciate it thoroughly,” Merwin replied. 

“I do not wish to press you,” Odelman continued. 
“I would not think of asking for your answer until 
you have had time for mature consideration, but I 
trust we understand each other perfectly.” 

“Perfectly,” Merwin repeated. 

When he stepped through the French windows to 
the terrace, he was surprised to find that it was night. 


XIX 


To Harney Inwood. it almost seemed that the ways 
of certain officials were obtuse. To him, the most ob- 
vious sequel to definite impressions he had formed had 
been to wire the Secretary of State personally. Had 
the Department ever carried on negotiations with one 
Cheever Rhoades for the purchase of a submarine? 

Now, as he leaned back in an easy-chair in the li- 
brary of his own home and watched the parti-colored 
ribbons of smoke mounting up from the tip of his cig- 
arette, he seemed fascinated by the answer. As he 
picked up the telegram and glanced at it again, he de- 
cided that it was typically official, laconic to a fault. 
It said, simply: 

“None. Who is the man?” 

Here was he, an outsider, unversed in the ways of 
crime detection, with still another key in his fingers. 
That made two discovered in as many days, unlocking 
the way to the hearts of different men, but doubtless 
to the same motives. Why had not Donegal Dawn 
made the same discovery? 

That caused Inwood to digress long enough to ask 
himself if he had not grown disappointed in Dawn. 
Was Donegal Dawn the enigma he had at first believed 
him to be, hiding his actions and his emotions behind 
a sluggish impassivity, or was it just ordinary ineffi- 
ciency? Yet, thinking of Dawn recalled the code of 
the locket he had deciphered, and its message which 
somehow Dawn had wished to impress upon him. His 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


217 


wire to Washington, he could see, had been hasty ac- 
tion. There was covert warning in the words, “He 
who acts hastily often misses the greater prize,” but 
what greater brain could there be back of it all than 
that of Andre Merwin? 

No, it could hardly be possible that Dawn, with his 
record of the past, could be the victim of plain stu- 
pidity. Inwood rather fancied there must be some 
subtle undercurrent, buried far beneath these obvious 
facts, which he had not encountered. Perhaps, what 
he had required a wire from Washington to confirm, 
Dawn knew instinctively. As he remembered now, 
Dawn had warned him not to make reference to the 
locket or its message. He began to believe that, after 
all, he must be prejudging the official and his methods, 
yet if there was one man among all those interested, 
who seemed to be doing absolutely nothing, it was 
Donegal Dawn. 

He could at least try to see through the other’s eyes. 
So Inwood stepped to the ’phone and called up head- 
quarters. The clerk regretted to report that Mr. Dawn 
was not in. Harney Inwood returned to his chair and 
tried to compose his mind. He began to tell himself 
that out of the tasks which lay before them all, his was 
doubtless the most difficult. He must refute certain 
facts. Yet such had been his success in the past that 
now he all but dreaded to probe the matter deeper. 
Each time he approached it, the more convincing be- 
came the proof that the hand of Markus Odelman was 
somehow, back of it all, moving the pawns. And not 
far from the moving hand of Odelman was the brain 
of Lucia Langmuir. It was either that or an hallu- 
cination. 

Harney Inwood rose to his feet restlessly, and it 
was with a sigh of relief that he welcomed the man 
who was announced a moment later. 


218 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


“Well, Longley,” he greeted his visitor, “we all have 
our problems. How are you coming along with the 
youth of the whitewashed eyebrows ?” 

“So long as you insist upon gentle handling, it is apt 
to be a difficult matter,” the official returned. “Last 
night, for instance, he came from that building alone, 
the one at the foot of the dock, you know. Had I 
been permitted to drop him in the water, the solution 
would have been quite simple. But just now his hab- 
its make him difficult to follow. Unfortunately, I 
have not the entry to the same clubs. But while wait- 
ing for him to return this afternoon, I made a discov- 
ery which may be of interest to you.” 

“Go on, Longley,” Inwood urged, as he offered a 
cigarette. 

“Your friend, Mr. Merwin, paid an extremely long 
visit to the old gent this afternoon.” 

“You mean to Mr. Markus Odelman?” Inwood 
asked quickly. 

Longley nodded. 

“They were together quite three hours, I should 
say,” the plainclothes man volunteered. “The fact may 
mean nothing to you, yet Mr. Merwin dismissed his 
car when he drove up, and went away on foot.” 

In that instant, Inwood almost regretted his employ- 
ment of the man before him. There were some facts 
which he feared to look squarely in the face, and this 
information of Longley’s seemed to be the thread lead- 
ing to one of them. So long as Markus Odelman’s po- 
sition remained unknown, there was hope. But this 
association with Andre Merwin! 

Longley was distinctly surprised at the cast of In- 
wood’s features as he rose quickly to his feet and be- 
gan pacing about the room. 

“Perhaps it is something I should not have seen,” he 
began tentatively. 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


219 


“Pardon me, Longley,” Inwood returned, with an 
abrupt change of manner. “There is a personal ele- 
ment in this which I cannot explain just yet. Of 
course you should see everything. Our first and only 
object just now is to get to the bottom of this affair, 
and to learn the facts, no matter whom it may hurt.” 

“So I believed, sir,” Longley replied slowly, and he 
seemed to be studying the other’s face as though un- 
certain how to proceed. “That is what made me take 
the course I did ” 

There was something in the man’s manner which 
caused Inwood to glance at him carefully. 

“You are holding something back, Longley,” he de- 
cided, at length. 

“You wish me to tell you everything?” 

“Absolutely. Without consideration for any per- 
son,” Inwood returned. “Remember this as well, any- 
thing I may ask you to keep back from your chief is 
for a time only, long enough for me to make a certain 
decision. It must all come out in the end.” 

“Your attitude relieves my mind greatly,” the offi- 
cial replied, with greater freedom of manner. “I was 
beginning to fear the wisdom of my part of the agree- 
ment. But to withhold facts for a time only is dif- 
ferent.” 

“You appear to have learned something of impor- 
tance ?” 

“Men in our position are justified in learning facts 
in any way,” Longley apologized. “Yet I do not want 
you to believe it is my habit to eavesdrop. Odelman 
and Merwin occupied the library which fronts out on 
the terrace. What occurred there before dark I can- 
not say. There are risks which I do not care to take. 
The library, Mr. Inwood, has open French windows, 
and when one reaches them after dark it is quite pos- 
sible to stand in their angle and overhear what goes on 


220 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


inside. Odelman and Merwin were seated close to 
the windows. I heard them for fully ten minutes. 
The only subject on which they conversed was the 
plans of the submarine.” 

Longley paused, apparently for no reason whatever. 

“Is it something which we should tell Dawn at 
once ?” Inwood asked, with an effort. 

“I hardly think so,” the plainclothes man returned 
slowly. “From what I could gather, coming into the 
middle of a conversation, Merwin has been at the head 
of one clique, Odelman at the head of another, and 
both have had the common object. But as matters 
stand now, neither can proceed without the other. It 
seems there is some person higher up, to whom Mer- 
win is responsible, whose identity Odelman does not 
know. Yet Odelman has the plans. It is mixed. To 
me, it is all tangled up, but perhaps these things mean 
something to you ” 

“So, each needing the other, they must work to- 
gether, from now on?” Inwood asked reflectively. 
“That would seem to be the only object of Merwin’s 
visit.” 

“It seemed to be leading up to that,” Longley 
agreed, “yet there was no bargain.” 

“There would not be,” Inwood returned bitterly. 
Facts to him had become cruel things. Yet the mere 
fact that Markus Odelman was what he was did not 
mean “And so it ended there ?” 

“I think it ended in a perfect understanding that 
they are to work together,” Longley declared. “But un- 
fortunately, so far as I heard, they did not discuss the 
future. I believe they got no farther than for each to 
understand the other’s position. There was no slight- 
est hint as to when or where they meet again ” 

As the official paused, he could see that Inwood’s 
eyes were fixed upon him with a curious light. There 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


221 


was in that glance fear not of the physical kind. Even 
he, inexperienced as he was in the finer emotions, knew 
that in Harney Inwood’s mind there was pain. When 
the latter spoke, his voice was that of a man who con- 
trols himself with an effort. 

“You heard enough of their conversation, perhaps,” 
he asked, “to know if there was any reference to a 
woman ?” 

Benton Longley shook his head slowly. 

“None whatever,” he replied, and somehow he fan- 
cied that a part of the shadow of fear slipped from 
Inwood’s eyes. 

“No names passed their lips,” Longley went on. 
“The house seemed silent and deserted. No one en- 
tered or left while I was there, except Merwin. I 
really believe the household was sent away, that they 
might be alone.” 

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to-night,” In- 
wood returned, with a marked revival of spirits. 

The depression and fears of the moment were gone. 
What unreasoning ideas he had been getting! Even 
his doubts of Lucia Langmuir were a reflection. And 
on what were his doubts founded ? Nothing but vague 
apprehensions. Out of the many little details on 
which his theories had been based, and on which he 
had all but convicted the girl in his own mind, he could 
find now, after saner retrospection, but the one which 
pointed directly to her. And even at that, what proof 
had he that it was Lucia Langmuir who had left that 
warning note with Struthers? There had been mis- 
taken identities before, there had been personations. 

In view of Longley’s revelations, it seemed quite be- 
yond doubt that the trial of treachery led to Markus 
Odelman. Yet might it not end with Odelman? The 
fact that the girl occupied some secretarial position 
in the household could not mean complicity. What a 


222 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


fool he had been to permit himself, by his own 
thoughts, to be deflected one iota from the course he 
had mapped out for himself! Doubtless all that was 
needed was for some strong mind to point out to her 
in a kindly way the anomalous position in which cir- 
cumstances had placed her, circumstances of which 
she probably knew nothing. Perhaps it required only 
a strong arm. He would go to her. At once. He 
must know the truth. 

“Since you know the way so well, Longley,” he 
added lightly, “you may drive me back to the big 
house.” 

“You do well to keep your eye on it, Mr. Inwood,” 
the official replied grimly. “It’s a queer place, that. 
And if the brains of this thing are not in that house, 
they’re not far from it. Take a good look at Odelman 
the next time you can. He’s not as old as he 
seems, and I think in a pinch he’d have wonder- 
ful vitality.” 

“If that’s the case, we’ll make him show it some 
day,” Inwood returned easily. “But have you seen 
any of your sportive friends of two nights ago, the 
ones who were so fond of you, Benton, that they gave 
you a house all to yourself ?” 

The offlcial’s eyes darkened, but he did not reply. 
It was evident that he had not met with success. 

It was not until they had nearly reached the Odel- 
man mansion that Inwood’s fears assailed him again. 
He was recalling now in spite of himself all the girl’s 
strange actions, her half confidences, her sudden moods 
of reserve, her veiled references to work at which she 
never seemed to be engaged. Then as the house loomed 
into sight, a dark mass hidden behind foliage, with 
only a subdued light showing here and there on the 
lower floor, he suddenly realized just how inopportune 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


223 


was the hour. It was nearly eleven o’clock, which 
made it quite out of question for him to call, even in- 
formally. 

At a word from In wood, the car came to a stop a 
full block distant, and for a moment he sat there in 
silence, staring back at the dark mass of architecture 
which might hold so much of mystery, which might 
even, he told himself with a start, be the girl’s prison. 
There were such things, he knew, even in this modern 
age. 

With a few words to Longley, In wood stepped to the 
pavement and the car glided away. He found himself 
alone with his problem. It was not the time or place 
for many passers-by. It seemed that some fascination 
held him, something, like an unvoiced cry of pain, was 
drawing him back to that gloomy mansion so nearly 
hidden by the trees. There was no thought farther 
from Inwood’s mind than the sin of spying, yet it had 
come to him abruptly that if, perhaps, he could catch 
a glimpse of her face when she believed herself to be 
alone, when she had thrown aside the mask of her 
role, he might be a better and fairer judge. Even this 
thought did not come to the man in any comprehensive 
form; it was rather a vague something in his brain 
which drew him on, which impelled his steps until at 
length he found himself on the broad terrace of which 
Longley had spoken. 

All about him were the dull, vague shadows of night. 
It was quite a different place from the night before 
when the whole house had glittered with its scintillat- 
ing lights, when even the terrace and the lawns were 
festive like fairyland. But now, shrouded in its 
shadows which seemed crouching about it like a veil, 
the mansion was almost repellent. It was only a fancy, 
Inwood knew, and with an effort to shake it off he 


224 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


drew still nearer the French windows, which were still 
open and through which he could catch the murmur of 
voices. 

As the man stepped noiselessly across the terrace, the 
occupants of the library beyond came into his line of 
view. The lights were soft and subdued, so that the 
faces were almost hidden, yet he knew them at once to 
be Lucia Langmuir and Mrs. Odelman. He fancied 
that the girl’s face was heavy and weary, though per- 
haps it was only the shading of the lights.^ Inwood 
drew still nearer. The only thought in his mind was 
to absolve this girl of the charges which circumstances 
seemed to have made against her. There could be no 
doubt of it now. There was a great weariness not 
only in the girl’s eyes but in her whole manner. Mrs. 
Odelman was chattering like one who tries to soothe 
a child, but the girl was replying only with spasmodic 
interest, with a total lack of that deference which one 
might expect from a social secretary, or even a com- 
panion. In that instant, Inwood felt a great sinking of 
the heart, for some latent instinct told him surely that 
this girl before him had but donned a masquerade 
when she posed as the employee of Mrs. Odelman. If 
deference there was, it was on the part of the older 
woman. She was crooning to the girl softly, at times, 
like one who faces something she does not understand. 
Lucia Langmuir glanced about restlessly. She seemed 
scarcely aware that the older woman was near her. 

If only Mrs. Odelman would leave her alone, Harney 
Inwood told himself, he would speak to her then. He 
would not listen to their voices, but he drew back in 
the shadows to wait. 

Behind him he heard the sound of footsteps gently 
approaching, soft, easy footsteps, muffled and almost 
noiseless upon the tile of the terrace. If he remained 
where he was, he must be discovered, and explanations 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


225 


might be embarrassing, perhaps impossible. Suddenly 
In wood remembered what Longley had told him of 
the safety nook in the angle of the windows. There 
was but small choice left him, so with quick steps 
he slipped into their shelter and found that the 
heavy curtains left him completely hidden from 
view. 

Inwood had moved just in time to avoid unpleas- 
antry. An instant later a man stepped from the terrace 
through the wide windows into the library, where he 
stood for a moment looking down upon the women 
before him. It was Markus Odelman. 

As he watched, Inwood could hardly credit his 
senses. There was in the face or attitude of the man 
nothing of the conspirator or the great criminal. There 
was something which spoke of sadness and nobleness, 
and there was a great compassionate kindness as he 
looked down upon Lucia Langmuir. For the instant 
his hand rested on her shoulder, there was affection in 
his manner, and Inwood noticed that the girl did not 
shrink from his touch. 

Astonished for the moment by the great human sym- 
pathy portrayed in that tableau, Harney Inwood quite 
forgot the doubtful nature of his position. He pressed 
his face close to the narrow opening in the angle of 
the windows. If only, at this moment, when the mask 
was down and humanity prevailed, he could catch a 
glimpse of the face of Lucia Langmuir. But the girl’s 
face was still turned from him. 

Markus Odelman looked across at the older woman, 
and she, as though at some unspoken signal, rose to 
her feet. 

“I really think, Markus, I must have some air,” she 
remarked casually. “The library becomes quite stuffy 
on a night like this. I’ll see if it’s any better on the 
terrace.” 


226 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


Inwood discovered with a start that it was quite too 
late to retreat from his hidden corner. Already the 
woman was halfway across the room, so any attempt 
to withdraw must have been discovered instantly. It 
was only when Mrs. Odelman took her position calmly 
in an easy-chair a few paces from him that Inwood 
realized the precariousness of his hiding place and the 
boorishness of his spying. It was too late to move; 
the only alternative was to listen. He noticed, too, that 
while Mrs. Odelman’s actions had been quite casual 
there was in her attitude now something of the pose 
of one on guard. 

Markus Odelman settled comfortably in an easy- 
chair across from the girl, and. what light there was 
fell full upon his face. It was frank and open now, 
without trace of guile. Inwood told himself through 
the pause that it was a distinguished face. His beard 
and hair, which were liberally shot with gray, were 
neatly, immaculately, trimmed, his features had the 
thin, angular appearance of the intellectualist, yet his 
clothes and his manners were too perfect for the man 
who withdraws himself from the world. His eyes just 
now were soft and pleasing, but not far back of them 
there seemed a restless fire, waiting as though to break 
out again. Except for that, there was nothing in 
Markus Odelman’s manner or appearance to brand 
him the fanatic. 

The man seemed in no hurry to speak, and the girl 
scarcely moved. 

“It seems to be the best way, Lucia,” Odelman spoke, 
at length, with the abruptness of a man who merely 
resumes an old conversation. “I can imagine the kind 
of offer Merwin will make. He is a wonderfully clever 
man, and in spite of appearance he has rather the best 
of the situation. To-night he did not seem to appre- 
ciate that fact, but he will before he returns. You 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


227 


were quite right, Lucia, when you said we would need 
outside help.” 

“Help, with discretion,” the girl returned, in a voice 
which seemed almost expressionless. 

“That doubtless is why you suggested Inwood?” the 
man reflected. 

Lucia Langmuir merely nodded her head in reply. 

“He is an admirable young man,” Odelman contin- 
ued slowly, “and quite devoted to you. Not that any 
one can blame him for that ” 

“Which has nothing whatever to do with the ques- 
tion,” the girl interrupted quickly. 

“Which, you mean, my dear girl, may have every- 
thing to do with it,” Odelman corrected, with a smile. 
“His devotion should make matters much more simple 
for you. We require assistance in an emergency, and 
Inwood is a reasonable man.” 

“And what am I to tell him ?” the girl asked dully. 

“Anything you wish, my dear girl,” Odelman re- 
turned. 

“Anything?” the girl asked, with an inflection which 
Inwood could not understand. 

“That will serve the purpose,” Odelman rejoined, as 
he rose to his feet. 

Even yet the man hidden in the angle of the French 
windows could not see the face of the girl, but on 
Markus Odelman’s features there was a benevolent 
smile which he could not fathom. 


XX 


The sun was but a few hours high when Andije Mer- 
win picked his way gingerly and neatly up the flower- 
bordered walk which led to the Odelman mansion. He 
would have greatly belied his artistic claims had he 
not paused from time to time to admire some foliage 
or bloom of unusual beauty, or to sniff luxuriously at 
the wonderful odors they exhaled. The season, he 
could see, was an admirable one for the beauties of 
nature, the hour was even more favorable. The sun’s 
rays were still pale and oblique, they had not yet 
brushed those great clusters of dewdrops from the 
petals of flowers, and somehow they had brought to 
Andre Merwin’s step a springiness which he had not 
felt the day before. 

It was a remarkable world, he must admit, now that 
success shone in his face. It was an equally remark- 
able disguise that Markus Odelman had adopted, hid- 
den away here in a great house, in the arms of luxury. 
There were flowers and dewdrops and pale sunshine 
everywhere, even to the edge of the terrace. He could 
even feel an admiration springing up in his brain for 
the cleverness of Markus Odelman. It was such a 
disguise as this, he told himself, that he should have 
adopted for his own background, for who could ever 
suspect a man who posed as an idealist amid such sur- 
roundings? It was wonderful. Or was it only his 
great, beaming sense of humanity which made him see 
beauty everywhere, which made him charitable even to 
228 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


229 


his enemy? It must have been that, or the smile of 
success. 

It was therefore with real complacence that Merwin 
permitted a servant to escort him to the great library 
and to place a chair facing out on the lawns. Yes, he 
would wait for Mr. Odelman. The hour might be un- 
usual, but Mr. Odelman would understand the impor- 
tance of his business. 

The length of the wait was surprisingly short, even 
to Andre Merwin. It might almost seem that Markus 
Odelman had anticipated this early morning visit, for 
within less than five minutes he appeared at the li- 
brary entrance, where he paused instinctively. 

“My dear Mr. Merwin,” he said softly, as he crossed 
the great room to greet his guest, “this is indeed pleas- 
ing. The beauties of the morning have no doubt 
tempted you, or was it the flowers and the foliage? 
They are wonderful at this season. You will pardon 
me. I do not feel often in this mood for boasting, 
but do you not think I am particularly fortunate amid 
such surroundings?” 

“Fortunate, indeed,” Merwin murmured, just as 
softly. “Perhaps it is only I who can appreciate the — 
advantages, shall we say? — of such surroundings.” 

Markus Odelman laughed easily. It almost seemed 
that he too was finding some thrill in the game as he 
played it. 

“But now that our pleasant interchange is over, you 
will permit me to remark that the hour is indeed a most 
early one,” Odelman continued. “I had not looked 
for you until the middle of the afternoon, at the 
best.” 

“There is but the one thing which could induce me 
to forget myself so far as to call at this hour,” Merwin 
replied smoothly, “and that is the element of time, over 
which, unfortunately, we have no control.” 


230 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


Odelman mused for a moment as he looked out upon 
the spacious lawns. 

“You are telling me,” he interrupted the other’s 
meaning, “that it becomes necessary to meet the man 
higher up quite soon — to-night, perhaps?” 

Merwin nodded his agreement, without speaking. 

“Perhaps I am to be pardoned if I reflect how fortu- 
nate it was that you came to me when you did,” Odel- 
man went on, “for sometimes I have qualms of con- 
science. Most unpleasant things, I assure you. Avoid 
them, Mr. Merwin, always, if you can. You will also 
excuse me if I mention that I suffered somewhat last 
night from squeamishness.” 

“There are dangers, of course, in everything,” Mer- 
win returned, “but this matter has resolved itself into 
a comparatively simple situation. Within twenty-four 
hours all should be over. You settle down here quietly 
if you choose. As for me, the future, perhaps, has 
greater work.” 

“Doubtless,” Odelman reflected, “doubtless you are 
right. But it is somehow the ease of it all that attacks 
my assurance. My own mind, for instance, is not at 
rest. I fear that last night, Mr. Merwin, I leaped to 
conclusions in an amateurish manner which must have 
shamed me in your eyes. We must have a closer un- 
derstanding. I am willing to admit that I am the rep- 
resentative, the agent, of a great power. I do not men- 
tion names, but I will say that it is one of the greatest 
nations in the world, a nation whose officials heard of 
this submarine, and who determined at once that they 
must have it. I am frank, Mr. Merwin, you see, which 
doubtless proves me a child in your hands. Yet I do it 
to encourage similar freedom on your part, which 
seems to me the only possibility of cooperation. You, 
too, doubtless, represent a great nation. I only wish to 
assure myself if it is the same.” 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


231 


Andre Merwin was in no hurry to reply. It seemed 
for a time that he mistrusted the man before him, yet 
a careful scrutiny of Odelman’s features as they ap- 
peared now in repose failed to show any signs of du- 
plicity. 

“If you are who you seem to be,” Merwin returned 
slowly, at last, “you would know perfectly well that 
no names can pass between us.” 

“Yet in a case of great doubt, it is a very material 
thing,” Odelman replied. “I do not ask you to be too 
explicit. You might merely call it the Fatherland, or 
the Central Empire. Either would convey to me its 
meaning. You must excuse me if I also recall the fact 
that the one thing essential to your success remains in 
my hands, and that the hours for success are limited. 
I do not wish to press you unduly, but you see for the 
moment where the balance of power lies.” 

“Mr. Odelman,” Merwin returned earnestly, “I real- 
ize that I am entirely in your hands, and that I must 
tell you ” 

“You realize as well the folly of naming the wrong 
country,” Odelman interjected gently. 

“It is, then, the Fatherland,” Merwin replied unwill- 
ingly, and his immediate study of the other’s coun- 
tenance failed to teach him anything. 

“And the Man Higher Up is, perhaps?” Odelman 
continued. 

“This, Mr. Odelman, is going quite too far,” Mer- 
win replied, with a flash of anger. 

“I am astonished,” the other returned, quite unper- 
turbed. “Must I remind you again that I have the 
plans ?” 

“Your methods are exceedingly brutal,” Merwin re- 
joined. “They are not what one would expect from 
one agent to another.” 

“One must be sure, quite sure,” Odelman assured 


232 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


him calmly. “There was always a chance, a bare one, 
that your interests might conflict with mine. But I 
think I can inform you already that we will be able 
to work together. The one thing required to set my 
mind at rest is the name of the Man Higher Up, the 
chief to whom you must report to-night.” 

It was very apparent that the information was wrung 
from Andre Merwin only by the extreme situation in 
which he found himself. There was no alternative. 
It was the one thread by which he could cling to suc- 
cess. 

“If you must have it,” he returned, sullenly, for him, 
“the man is the Baron von ” 

Markus Odelman held up his hand in protest. 

“Whisper it in my ear, my dear Mr. Merwin,” he 
pleaded, “for there are times when even these walls 
seem listening.” 

Merwin crossed the few paces necessary to repeat 
the words in the other’s ear, after which Odelman 
stepped back and regarded his visitor critically. 

“It was a serious moment, I admit,” he declared, 
“yet your resolution has cleared matters for us won- 
derfully. Now we can proceed with the object of your 
visit. You doubtless have plans, Mr. Merwin?” 

“As you already have guessed, it is to-night that I 
must meet, I will continue to call him, the Man Higher 
Up,” Merwin replied, as though he begrudged the in- 
formation. “I require the plans, Mr. Odelman, so I 
have come for them.” 

“The simplicity of the situation is really surprising, 
is it not, Mr. Merwin?” Odelman smiled in return. 
“You require plans, extremely valuable plans, so you 
come for them, that is all. Have you nothing further 
to suggest?” 

“I presumed there was a price to pay,” Merwin re- 
turned stiffly, “though that shows the folly of sending 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


233 


two men after the same thing. My expenses have been 
tremendous ” 

“Borne by the Government, as have mine,” Odelman 
interrupted blandly. 

“But they reduce my commission, just the same,” 
Merwin retorted. “Under the circumstances, I am 
prepared to allow you half, which seems to me very 
generous.” 

For a time Markus Odelman seemed entirely en- 
grossed in the trivial matter of watching the smoke 
from his cigarette, but at length he glanced at his vis- 
itor shrewdly. 

“Your offer overwhelms me,” he returned easily. “I 
may say that never in my life have I hoped to become 
the possessor of so many millions. It is quite too 
princely. What if I was to tell you that it is not the 
sordid wealth of the world I seek, but the honor of 
service ? But pardon the interruptions, you have some 
suggestions to make.” 

“As I said before,” Merwin offered directly, “I am 
prepared to divide the commission with you, provided 
you hand over the plans to me. The commission, of 
course, will have to be a matter of honor, for I am but 
barely supplied with funds, as it is. The money, how- 
ever, will be waiting immediately upon the delivery of 
the plans. You can hand them over to me now, or at 
any time up to six o’clock to-night. To-morrow you 
get your commission.” 

“You must leave so early to meet our friend higher 
up?” Odelman mused. 

“It is quite imperative,” Merwin returned shortly, 
“as you doubtless know from the wireless you inter- 
cepted.” 

“By land or water?” 

“What has that to do with it?” Merwin demanded 
sharply. 


234 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


Markus Odelman favored his visitor with an injured 
glance. 

“How you disappoint me, Mr. Merwin,” he pro- 
tested. “To you there will be all honor. To me you 
would, deny even the solace of taking the all-powerful 
one by the hand. Yet to some of us, you know, the 
mere service is its own reward. I had even dared to 
hope, Mr. Merwin, that you, from the depth of your 
kindness, would have suggested that I should accom- 
pany you on this extremely important mission ” 

“That is quite out of the question,” Merwin inter- 
rupted brusquely. “The Baron is to be seen only by 
men summoned to his presence. You, Mr. Odelman, 
hardly have that distinction.” 

“Unfortunately, no,” Odelman sighed serenely. “I 
have nothing more than the plans. I think, after all, 
Mr. Merwin, that I will reconsider my intention to co- 
operate. The service of the Baron is really trying at 
times, as you well know. And then there is the Amer- 
ican Government. I feel quite sure they would be 
really grateful. One always feels thankful, you know, 
for a tragedy narrowly averted.” 

Andre Merwin’s eyes narrowed like those of an 
animal at bay, and though he tried to bring himself 
under control it became very apparent that he was la- 
boring under some keen emotion. He glanced sav- 
agely at Markus Odelman, but his host had risen and 
was looking idly through the windows. 

“It is just possible that it could be arranged,” Mer- 
win returned with an effort. 

“It is really very kind of you,” Odelman exclaimed, 
as he turned about quickly, and recrossed the room to 
stand by the other’s side. “I am quite delighted. I am 
afraid it leaves me somewhat excited, but you will 
overlook that, Mr. Merwin, when I tell you I have been 
looking forward to this moment for many months. 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


235 


You will be prepared to leave at six. Do we take the 
train or the yacht?” 

“I think you already know that we take the yacht,” 
Merwin returned, with scant courtesy. 

“The yacht, of course. How stupid of me!” Odel- 
man deprecated. “We will, perhaps, meet a vessel 
somewhere at sea? How thrilling and interesting it 
sounds — quite like a romance!” 

“I could hardly think of marring your pleasure by 
telling you so much in advance,” Merwin replied, as 
he began to recover his poise. 

“After all,” Odelman reflected to himself, “now 
that I remember, I always suffer from seasickness. I 
think I must remain on land; the American Govern- 
ment will be so appreciative.” 

“I realize, Mr. Odelman,” Merwin replied, with sup- 
pressed anger, “that you have the upper hand. If you 
must know, there is an island some miles down the 
coast where I have been in the habit of entertaining 
week-end guests. It is a secluded and unfrequented 
spot. It is a little less than a six-hour sail, and the 
Baron arrives at midnight, sharp. A tramp steamer 
which floats the American flag will stand off the island 
for an hour or so. The plans are to be placed directly 
into the Baron’s hands, for they are too valuable to be 
entrusted to the mails. The Baron leaves the reward, 
is taken back to the steamer, and it is all finished, under 
cover of darkness. The tramp steamer goes on its 
way, for it is not such as any war vessel would ever 
think to molest.” 

“Admirable !” Odelman complimented, with a laugh. 
“Much better than I had ever fancied. But are you 
sure you are not overlooking something?” 

“Just what do you mean ?” Merwin demanded coldly. 

“The Baron, perhaps, will give you another assign- 
ment ?” 


236 THE ENEMY WITHIN 

y 

“Naturally,” Merwin replied calmly. “There is 
much work still to be done in this country. Doubtless, 
had you shown a little less obstinacy, I might have seen 
fit to recommend you for definite work of the same 
nature.” 

Markus Odelman astonished his visitor by suddenly 
slapping him on the back in the height of good humor 
and by laughing with careful inflection. 

“Do you really mean, my dear Mr. Merwin,” he 
asked, “that it has taken you all this time to learn just 
why I must see the Baron?” 

For a long time Andre Merwin allowed his gaze to 
wander over the frank, guileless face of his host, over 
the laughing blue eyes, over the humanly whimsical 
lips; then abruptly all the anger and the uncertainty 
faded from his countenance. 

“What a fool I have been,” he muttered softly to 
himself. 

“I would hardly go so far as that,” Odelman smiled 
encouragingly. 

“Yet I was warned of other agents along the 
coast, and to watch for them,” Merwin rebuked 
himself. 

“And I was told to prove myself first,” Odelman re- 
joined, his eyes filled with a soft, humorous light. 
“Have I not done it, Mr. Merwin?” 

“Wonderfully well,” Merwin conceded. 

“Perhaps now you will understand why there is 
something I have put before mere financial reward,” 
Odelman continued. “I am not a wealthy man, Andre 
Merwin. What you have seen is nothing but the gilt 
on the outside, yet I am willing to waive all claims to 
commission, to reject even your most generous offer 
of half-and-half, for the simple pleasure of being pre- 
sented to the Baron and having my position made 
known. I am building to the future, Mr. Merwin, for 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


237 


I know there are great things I can do for my coun- 
try, which will have their own reward here.” 

Markus Odelman placed his hand simply and unaf- 
fectedly on his heart, and when he gazed squarely in 
the eyes of Andre Merwin the latter was obliged to 
look away. 

“I think I understand.,” Merwin muttered, though 
he felt quite well there was a type of service in Markus 
Odelman’s manner of which he knew nothing. 

“Well, well, we become sentimental,” Odelman re- 
turned, more lightly. “And that is not the way to ac- 
complish great things. So it is all settled. I am to go 
with you on the yacht. You may see the plans here at 
five to satisfy yourself they are the ones, if you wish, 
but I can assure you they are. I ask simply that I be 
permitted to place them myself in the Baron's hands. 
I trust that is not robbing you of too much of your 
honors, Mr. Merwin. You must pardon me for having 
touched the emotional side of things, for I felt it was 
the only way to make you fully understand my posi- 
tion. I realize, quite as well as yourself, that from 
the moment I step on board the yacht I am entirely in 
your hands. You, surrounded by your faithful sub- 
jects, would, find me but a child, but, Mr. Merwin, I 
have read you well enough to know you are great 
enough not to stand in the way of a man who asks for 
service only, and not for reward ” 

“My dear Mr. Odelman, you humiliate me,” Merwin 
interjected quickly. “I find in you a fellow man de- 
voted to the service of the nation, than which, at this 
moment, there is nothing greater in the whole world. 
The stand you have taken is a magnificent one; it is 
glorious. You have won from me fairly and squarely. 
My only regret is that we did not know each other 
sooner. That might have saved much worry and con- 
fusion. But since matters are as they are, I would feel 


238 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


myself indeed unworthy of the service if I put one 
obstacle between you and your desire to meet the 
Baron. I would feel myself a cad if I went back on 
my offer.” 

Odelman brushed the suggestion aside with a grace- 
ful wave of the hand. 

“That point is quite settled, Mr. Merwin,” he de- 
clared. “But your generosity makes me so bold as to 
ask a favor.” 

“I have no doubt it is something I will be pleased to 
grant.” 

“Since your greatest need just now is trusty, capable 
operatives,” Odelman resumed, “there is another, one 
of my associates, whom I believe the Baron would like 
to meet, and who is no less keen than myself to meet 
the Baron. I refer to Miss Langmuir, the mysterious 
woman who was obliged to use violence upon Rufus 
Nallfar a few nights ago ” 

“Which means, then, that there was not a third 
party, after all,” Merwin exclaimed softly. “Things 
are clearing. But go on.” 

“I feel we owe you, as well as Nallfar, our apologies 
for the work of that night,” Odelman continued. “It 
was purely a mistake, I assure you. You see, we have 
been working on these plans for some weeks, and when 
Miss Langmuir found Nallfar in possession of them 
in the Rhoades house, she could not know just who he 
was. We had not yet associated him with you, Mr. 
Merwin. We took him for a common thief, and not 
for an idealist who is willing to sink petty prejudices 
in a great cause. So I trust you will overlook the 
girl’s violence, and help her to meet the Baron at the 
same time as myself, for doubtless, as you say, there is 
plenty of work of obstruction to be carried out in this 
country.” 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


239 


Andre Merwin laughed easily, with rather less pol- 
ish than was his custom. There was even a nervous 
elation in his manner, as though the man had been suf- 
fering under keen strain and had at last thrown off the 
chains of doubt. There was still greater freedom in 
his manner when he replied. 

“The manner in which the girl carried out her work 
appealed to me at the time,” he returned. “There was 
a dash and daring about it which I could not but ad- 
mire. I must confess that I even went so far as to 
wish she was on our side, and now when I discover 
the facts of the case I am all the more pleased to take 
her to the Baron. Our difficulties seem to be smooth- 
ing out wonderfully, Mr. Odelman.” 

“ ’Tis the calmness of the early morning which clears 
a man’s brain of all the secondary considerations,” 
Odelman suggested. “That, and a fuller realization 
that our causes are inseparable.” 

“Except for one thing, I could pronounce our ar- 
rangements perfect,” Merwin replied. 

Odelman did not respond, but his glance was an in- 
vitation for the other to proceed. 

“I had hoped,” Merwin went on slowly, “I had 
planned to bag the submarine as well.” 

“And yet, from your great sense of delicacy, you do 
not wish to rebuke me openly for having Rogersen 
and Bradsworth removed,” his host returned, with a 
laugh. 

“It does seem to have interfered with my plans.” 

“I believe you appreciated toward the end that the 
best you could hope to accomplish was the machine’s 
destruction?” Odelman asked carefully. “You had 
quite given up all idea of its capture?” 

“Yet that alone would have been of inestimable serv- 
ice to the nation,” Merwin declared quite frankly. 


240 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


“Those were my instructions months ago — to capture 
it, if possible, but at the least not to leave it in the 
hands of the enemy/’ 

“How far-sighted we are,” Odelman reflected. “That 
is the basis of our wonderful success. You, Mr. Mer- 
win, appreciating the great value of that quality, will 
pardon me if I imply that possibly I may have been 
a trifle more far-sighted than yourself.” 

“I have broken the news to the Baron that the plans 
are the most he can hope for at present,” Merwin re- 
plied. “They alone will make us masters of the waters of 
the world. But just what did you mean, Mr. Odelman ?” 

“Then if we present the Baron with the submarine, 
after all, it will come to him with all the keener rel- 
ish?” Odelman returned, and when the other looked 
at him sharply he found something in his host’s man- 
ner which brought a thrill to his veins. 

“You mean you have not given up hope of it?” Mer- 
win demanded. 

“Hope to me is like the freshness of the morning; it 
is never far away,” Odelman smiled in reply. “Roger- 
sen and Bradsworth were removed because they were 
a menace to my plans. They would have destroyed the 
submarine; it was to have been done last night, was 
it not?” 

“To-night, at midnight, the exact moment we meet 
the Baron,” Merwin corrected. 

“The day or hour does not matter. They would 
have destroyed it, and deprived the nation of a won- 
derful invention.” Odelman paused for a moment as 
he looked at his visitor contemplatively. “As for my- 
self, I looked forward even to this hour, Mr. Merwin, 
for I felt always that you were a reasonable man.” 

“So you have plans?” Merwin interjected keenly. 
“You think it can be done?” 

“The fact that you have chosen such a rendezvous as 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


241 


you have should make it quite simple,” Odelman de- 
clared, without trace of doubt in his manner. 

Andre Merwin tried to wait through the pause which 
followed, but even he, schooled as he was in self-con- 
trol, found the strain of delay something not to be 
endured. 

“Please go on,” he begged. 

“Perhaps you will admit, Mr. Merwin, that I pos- 
sess to a certain degree the art of throwing out clews.” 

Merwin winced. 

“I know it quite too well,” he returned, with a hol- 
low laugh. 

“You must not reproach me,” Odelman replied read- 
ily. “They were merely intended to bring us together, 
to work together in a great cause. Now, that same art 
might be turned in the direction of others. The sub- 
marine is fast, faster than any mercantile or war ves- 
sel afloat. I have learned that for myself. Now, put 
yourself in the place of Rhoades and Donegal Dawn. 
Suppose, a couple of hours after your yacht sailed to- 
night, Mr. Merwin, Donegal Dawn was to get a mes- 
sage, just a hint — a vague hint, you know — as to where 
the yacht has gone, and its purpose, what would be 
their most likely action ?” 

For a moment Andre Merwin studied the problem 
in silence, then abruptly a great light broke out on his 
face, so great that he stepped over and suddenly 
grasped Odelman by the hand. 

“You have a wonderful brain, Odelman,” he com- 
plimented. “Of course they must follow, and the only 
vessel in which they could hope to follow with any 
degree of success would be the submarine itself.” 

“We can plan the details of capture on the yacht on 
the way down,” Odelman returned calmly, “but we 
must be extremely careful in throwing out our clews. 
Upon second thought, I do not fancy the message at 


242 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


all. Dawn is not an unintelligent man, and while he 
would naturally want to add to his reputation by play- 
ing a lone hand, he might take the precaution of wir- 
ing down the coast to some nearer point. That would 
be fatal. No, we must not send a message. I think, 
Mr. Merwin, it would be much better to send a mem- 
ber of the yacht’s crew, one who could act the part of 
a disgruntled man with a grievance, who had turned 
against you, who, being a lubberly seaman, did not 
know where the island was, except by compass. He 
could guide the submarine to the island, but could re- 
fuse to give other information, because he would not 
have others cheating him of his revenge. Do you 
think they would fall for that, Mr. Merwin?” 

“The submarine is as good as ours,” Merwin ex- 
claimed, and it became very apparent that it was only 
with a great effort that he controlled his excitement. 
“They would land at the island ; there is a small dock, 
you know. The capture of the crew is inevitable.” 

“Particularly when there are several of my men 
among it,” Odelman smiled enigmatically. “If you 
will tell me the strength of the yacht’s crew, Mr. Mer- 
win, it will help greatly. We must have the balance 
of power, from point of numbers.” 

“There are six of the crew,” Merwin replied read- 
ily, “five others who will ride as passengers.” 

Odelman meditated for a moment in silence. 

“It is not enough,” he concluded. “To omit precau- 
tions would be folly. Besides, you must lose one of 
them, one of your best men, too, to play the part of 
decoy. If you will permit me, I will supply some 
others ; I would feel much more at ease. This is no 
time to be taking chances. If you will leave me now, 
Mr. Merwin, I must work out details to submit to you 
on board the yacht. The plans will be here at five, for 
your inspection.” 


XXI 


Harney Inwood opened his eyes on the world, and 
found it fair to look upon. Then a moment later, as 
he recalled the occurrences of the night before, a shud- 
der of revulsion swept over him. To one, with such 
work as lay before him, the brightness of the morning 
was a mockery. 

Inwood rose slowly and dressed listlessly. He was 
commencing his day with a methodical inertia, which 
seemed the reflex of a dogged determination driving 
him on. Strangely enough, since that enervating pe- 
riod of the night before, when chance had thrown to 
him the conversation of Markus Odelman and Lucia 
Langmuir, he had felt no weakening in his allegiance 
to Cheever Rhoades, or to that greater fealty of which 
Rhoades had become the symbol. His path lay clearly 
defined before him, and he felt that whatever bitter- 
ness he might find on the way he must accept as his 
share of human suffering. 

Inwood breakfasted indifferently, and as he toyed 
with the food which was placed before him, he was 
wondering if it would not be wisest to banish Lucia 
Langmuir from his thoughts, to see her no more. The 
former he tried, only to discover after a time that it 
was a matter quite beyond his control. Her gestures, 
her soft accents, her smiles, were something which 
flashed out to him from every hidden page of his mem- 
ory. At length he gave up the futile struggle for for- 
getfulness, and began to flay himself with the cold, 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


2U 

bare facts which stood out before his calm judgment 
with insistent reality. The one remaining hope upon 
which he had built up his faith in Lucia Langmuir had 
been torn from him, destroyed ruthlessly by the words 
which fell from the girl’s own lips. 

Even he could no longer delude himself into a be- 
lief that she was innocent of the connivings of Markus 
Odelman. And Odelman was playing into the hands 
of Andre Merwin. And Merwin was guilty of what? 
Inwood shivered as though he would shrink from it 
all. He feared it was treachery. 

That chain of circumstances was something which 
the man could not contemplate placidly. He must have 
action, something to drive it from him. Inwood rose 
to his feet restlessly. He would refuse to see the girl 
again. Yet even while he made the resolve, he felt 
that he was waiting, listening for the message which 
would summon him to her. For summon him she must, 
he knew, from her words of the night before. In- 
wood walked about his rooms, forcing a spasmodic in- 
terest in the trivial things which came before him, but 
at last he gave it up. He could not be quite sure even 
yet that he would not refuse to see the girl. 

Action he must have. Inwood stepped to the 
’phone and ordered the roadster brought to the door- 
way. 

As he stood upon the broad steps, waiting, he felt a 
sudden anger toward the lavish display of wealth all 
about him. Wealth he had, and to waste. Yet the one 
cup of happiness he had thought, to raise to his lips 
had been snatched from him. Perhaps, if he had been 
reared in some lower stratum of life 

What nonsense he was thinking ! Inwood welcomed 
the car with a gesture of relief and a word of appre- 
ciation which astonished the garageman. Then sud- 
denly he remembered. He turned about quickly and 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


245 


walked through the vestibule into a spacious receiving 
room. 

“Parker,” he addressed a bleak-faced individual who 
stood there in respectful silence, “if a message of any 
sort should come for me, I can be reached at police 
headquarters or Mr. Rhoades’.” 

Then, without waiting for an answer, Inwood turned 
away, stepped into the car, and drove rapidly. His 
return to the house, he knew, had been a concession. 
But now he was on his way to follow the pathway of 
fate unflinchingly. And Fate, he knew, had her own 
ways of crushing men and women underfoot. 

Inwood drove directly to headquarters. There were 
many things he must tell Donegal Dawn, things which 
hurt, perhaps, which forced him to hold the human 
element of lesser import than the principles of the 
cause. He believed he held the key to the whole plot. 
He would place it in the hands of one who could use it. 

At headquarters he was informed that Dawn was 
not in, had not been heard from for hours, as a matter 
of fact, not since the middle of the day previous. At 
the man’s house he was told the same. No, they were 
not alarmed at his absence. It was Dawn’s way when- 
ever he was on a big case. Nor could Benton Longley 
be found, though Longley, he knew from the happen- 
ings of the past night, could not be with Donegal Dawn. 

Perhaps it was not strange that these two men should 
have dropped out of sight, the two, he believed, who 
the most nearly guessed the plottings of Andre Mer- 
win. Yet the thought brought to him an involuntary 
trace of fear. The powers ranged against them were 
much more formidable than he had ever fancied pos- 
sible, and the mere fact that they were able to work in 
secret added to their strength. If only he could have 
the solace of Donegal Dawn ! 

The next best thing was to see Cheever Rhoades. 


246 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


Besides, there was a definite purpose in going to 
Rhoades. He was remembering that telegram from 
Washington, disclaiming all knowledge of the man. It 
was a mystery, yet one to be approached delicately. 
Fortunately, he found Rhoades at home, but the peace 
of mind of the latter was not great. 

“Where have you been all this time, Harney ?” he 
greeted Inwood. “I was beginning to think I was be- 
ing deserted by everybody. I cannot get in touch with 
Dawn, either at his house or the office. Merwin seems 
completely engrossed, following up what he says are 
theories of his own, and I have been left here to won- 
der what would happen next. I suppose you heard 
Rogersen and Bradsworth had disappeared ?” 

“No, I had not,” Inwood returned, with a start of 
surprise. “Do you know just how it was done?” 

“Bradsworth was lured away in a motor; Rogersen 
was placed under arrest by men posing as police offi- 
cers,” Rhoades explained hastily. “Beyond that, we 
know nothing, and it was Merwin who found out that 
much. Harney, things happen here in such unexpected 
ways that I am beginning to feel afraid. The police 
do not seem to be able to offer the least protection, and 
now there is Dawn, he disappears when he is needed 
most ” 

Rhoades paused nervously, and his companion, look- 
ing closely, felt a keen pang of compassion. It was 
plain that the man had suffered intensely. His features 
were drawn and haggard, his eyes wore a worried, 
haunted look, and his fingers were unsteady as they 
toyed with an unlighted cigarette. 

“Please don’t think me the fool, Harney,” Rhoades 
went on hastily, as he noted the other’s glance, “but 
you know this has meant everything in the world to 
me. It isn’t the months and the years I have spent on 
it which count. It wouldn’t be the mere loss of it all 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


247 


which would unnerve me so. But, Harney, I am 
afraid, terribly afraid, that in spite of all you have 
said, the plans have fallen into the hands of the enemy. 
It is that thought which is driving me mad, for I 
think I know better than any man alive just what that 
would mean ” 

For the second time Rhoades paused, and as he drew 
closer to his companion, it seemed that he was fighting 
for self-control. 

“Harney,” he went on abruptly, “that submarine is 
much better than I ever told even you. It has many 
equipments of which I have never spoken, which I did 
• not even show the Admiralty, and they are all there, 
on those plans. When I think of an instrument like 
that, invented by my own brain, only to be turned 
against us, it is more than I can stand.” 

“The best thing you can do is to stop thinking about 
it,” Inwood returned, but even as he spoke he realized 
the futility of such advice. Yet as he looked at the 
man before him, who was plainly under mental suffer- 
ing, the man whom he had befriended, he could feel 
a tightening about his own lips. It had not occurred 
to him in quite the same light before. Even though it 
had been Rhoades’ brain which had invented, it was 
his money which had made its materialization possible. 
So the burden of Cheever Rhoades should be his. 

As his mind caught the motive of Rhoades’ suffer- 
ing, Inwood could feel a strengthening of his deter- 
mination to see the thing through to the end, no matter 
how keen might be his own punishment, or that of 
others. As he waited, he felt a sudden restlessness, an 
impatience for that message which must summon him 
to Lucia Langmuir. It was the girl, he felt, who held 
the missing links, and she and Odelman had thought 
to use him for some purpose of their own. Inwood set 
his lips firmly. Of course he would see her now. 


248 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


As the man laughed to himself harshly, Rhoades 
looked up with a startled glance, but did not speak. 
Inwood scarcely noticed him. Of course he would see 
the girl now. He would play the game with all the 
ruthlessness of Markus Odelman, and he would win. 
He would see the girl. He would hear her story. And 
he would use it, without thought of scruple. For now, 
he could see, it was the future of a world, and not of 
individuals, which was at stake. 

He laughed again, more harshly than before. 

“You frighten me, Harney,” Rhoades suggested un- 
easily. 

“So you think that perhaps Dawn may also have 
been spirited away,” Inwood returned, and the mo- 
ment he caught a glimpse of the other's face he regret- 
ted the words. 

“Of course there’s nothing like that,” he went on 
hastily. “Dawn, it seems, never talks when he works. 
He is doubtless out at this minute getting valuable 
information; but, just the same, I wish he was here. 
There is something I would like to bring to his atten- 
tion. In the meantime, I would like to ask you, 
Cheever, if you are quite sure you ever had an offer 
from the Department of State for your submarine.” 

Rhoades stared back in astonishment, and he laughed 
a little like a man who is losing a grip on himself. It 
was a minute or more before he could find words to 
answer. 

“Did I ever have an offer from the Department?” 
he exclaimed. “Why, Harney, it was only a few days 
ago that I discussed the whole matter with you. Surely 
you remember how Merwin is their agent on the 
coast.” 

“Quite so,” Inwood returned calmly. “Please sit 
down. Have one of these cigarettes, and try to get a 
grip on yourself. What I asked you was if you were 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


249 


quite sure you had an offer from the Department.” 

Rhoades sat down slowly. 

"Just what can you mean?” he demanded. "Please 
do not play with me.” 

"Two days ago I formed a certain theory,” Inwood 
informed, "and to follow it up meant that I was obliged 
to interfere in your affairs. You must excuse that. I 
wired the Secretary of State from my own address, 
asking if you had ever had any dealings with them 
concerning a submarine. Here is their answer.” 

Inwood handed over the message he had received the 
day before, and was not surprised to see that after the 
first amazement had passed away, it had reacted upon 
Rhoades like a tonic. 

"It is quite impossible, preposterous,” Rhoades re- 
turned, yet with a trace of doubt in his tones. 

"You see, the Department does not even know who 
you are,” Inwood pressed on, "much less have they 
had dealings with you. And these telegrams, you must 
remember, passed through channels where they could 
not be tampered with.” 

"But it is absurd,” Rhoades replied more slowly. "I 
have received a dozen letters, at least, from the De- 
partment, discussing details of the purchase. There 
was even an inspection by the Admiralty Department.” 

"Unfortunately, I was away when that happened,” 
Inwood reflected. "Vice-Admiral, or something like 
that, I believe, wasn’t it? There have, I presume, been 
just as daring impersonations as this before.” 

"Do you believe what you are saying?” Rhoades 
asked, and Inwood noticed that with something defi- 
nite to work upon, the other had quite regained his 
composure. 

"It is stronger than that, my dear boy,” Inwood re- 
turned warmly. "I have evidence. Unfortunately, I 
could not bring it with me ” 


250 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


“Then to that there can be only the one possible in- 
terpretation,” Rhoades continued, as though speaking 
to himself, “and that isn’t possible.” 

“There is but the one interpretation,” Inwood in- 
sisted, “and you know what it is.” 

“Merwin?” Rhoades asked. “Yet that is totally 
out of the question.” 

“Instead, it is a great reality,” Inwood declared. 
“You remember Longley, the plainclothes man. Well, 
while working upon my theory last night he overheard 
a conversation, shared by Merwin, which, if it could 
be repeated in court, would convict the man of high 
treason ” 

Rhoades waved him into silence. 

“Don’t!” he exclaimed. “Let me think.” 

After a moment, he rose to his feet and motioned to 
Inwood to follow. Rhoades led the way into the li- 
brary-workroom where he found a cabinet file, from 
one of the compartments of which he produced a sheaf 
of letters. 

“This,” he pronounced, as he handed the letters to 
Inwood, “is the correspondence with the Department 
of State concerning the submarine and its purchase. 
The letters from Washington, you see, are all on the 
letterheads of the Department, the signature seems 
genuine enough, and you can tell by reading that the 
negotiations lead up to the purchase carefully. In the 
first place I am recommended to Merwin and advised 
that extreme secrecy is advisable.” 

For the next fifteen minutes, Inwood devoted his full 
attention to the correspondence, then abruptly he 
tossed it from him with a laugh. 

“They’re clever devils, to say the least,” Inwood de- 
clared. “Benson, I presume, looks after all your let- 
ters.” 

“Yes ; but you’re surely not going to suspect Benson 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


251 


of anything,” Rhoades returned quickly. “The most 
of these letters, I remember, came to me in their en- 
velopes, unopened.” 

“Which is further evidence that brains have been 
utilized,” Inwood replied calmly. “But don’t worry. 
Benson, so far as I know, is a model youth. Just how 
this has been done, I don’t pretend to know, but it does 
seem to me that a ten-dollar-a-week mail clerk placed 
in the right office in the Department at Washington 
could purloin all the incoming letters from you, and 
he would not need to be particularly bright to get a 
few letterheads. I’m afraid, Cheever, you’ve fallen 
into the hands of certain gentlemen compared with 
whom highwaymen would be angels. I know the sud- 
denness of it all makes it very difficult for you to be- 
lieve anything against Merwin, for he is doubtless the 
most pleasant scoundrel 1 ever had anything to do 
with. But there’s a ’phone ring. I’d gamble that’s 
for me.” 

Inwood’s anticipation was quite correct. It was 
Parker, his butler, with the message for which he had 
been waiting. 

“A communication from Miss Langmuir,” Parker 
announced, “and would you please call at the Odel- 
mans at two.” 

Inwood’s lips were straight and firm as he left the 
’phone. Of course he would call, and he was thankful 
now that he had been warned against treachery. 

“Well, I must be off now,” he declared, as he pre- 
pared to take his leave. “There are doubtless some 
things you will want to consider alone.” 

“But what attitude am I to take in case Merwin 
returns?” Rhoades asked. “Though he said I might 
not see him until night.” 

“Confound that man Dawn!” Inwood exclaimed. 
“If he was only here, I could tell you better. But 


252 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


until I can see him, you will act as though you knew 
absolutely nothing, for that seems to be Dawn’s own 
attitude toward everything.” 

Once outside, Inwood found there was plenty of 
time to spare before he needed to call on Lucia Lang- 
muir. He decided to make one more attempt to find 
Donegal Dawn, so drove directly to headquarters. 
This time the clerk informed him in an ingratiating 
manner that Mr. Dawn had arrived but a few minutes 
ago. He seemed somewhat worn and dusty, but per- 
haps he would see Mr. Inwood. 

A moment later Inwood. found himself in the room 
with the man whose reputation for shrewdness had 
reached beyond the State, but who, to him, seemed 
always idle. As he approached, Inwood was aston- 
ished at the change in the man. He could hardly be- 
lieve his eyes. The Donegal Dawn he saw before him 
now had quite lost all that immaculate appearance 
which had set him aside from the stodgy type of man- 
kind. To be brutally frank about the matter, he looked 
very much like one of the ordinary stevedores or long- 
shoremen who were constantly to be seen hanging 
about the waterfront. Dawn was sufficiently ragged, 
unshaven and begrimed with dirt to live up to the part. 

The official laughed and held out his hand as he saw 
the amazement on Inwood’s features. 

“You really compliment me by your manner,” he 
declared easily. “And you must excuse me for look- 
ing longingly at those excellent cigarettes of yours, 
Mr. Inwood. That much luxury should be permitted 
a man who has been forced to smoke a black pipe for 
the last twenty- four hours. But how do you like the 
make-up ?” 

“To tell you the truth, if the clerk hadn’t told me 
you were in the room, I would have been inclined to 
pitch you out the window as an interloper,” Inwood 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


253 


replied, with a laugh, as he handed over his case of 
cigarettes. “But why this astonishing change? The 
police, surely, are not after you ?” 

For a moment Dawn smoked luxuriously, in silence. 

“It is just one of my fads,” he returned, with an 
enigmatic smile. “Sometimes I believe it is one of my 
greatest weaknesses, this desire to get into the heart 
of realism. But I gather you wanted to speak to me 
about something. Before you commence, let me tell 
you how fortunate you were to find me here, for it is 
but a matter of a half hour. It was unwise to come 
here, in this dress, I know, but there were articles I 
must have and there was no time to do anything else. 
I will be away the next time for some hours. You 
were about to tell me ” 

Inwood sketched as briefly as possible the clews 
which led up to Andre Merwin, and as he talked he 
watched the features of Donegal Dawn. Yet, so far 
as he could discover, no change of emotion or senti- 
ment was permitted to reflect itself on the man’s coun- 
tenance. Even when he passed over the telegram 
which had left Rhoades trembling with astonishment, 
he could find no change in Dawn’s attitude of indiffer- 
ence. The official was smoking as calmly at the end of 
the story as at the beginning. 

“If I might be permitted to have another of those 
cigarettes,” he begged, as Inwood finished talking. “It 
is perhaps the last decent smoke I will have for hours.” 

Inwood was staring at the man in a puzzled way. 
He had met men before who masked their feelings, 
but none quite like Donegal Dawn. 

“But does this mean nothing to you ?” he demanded 
at last, when it seemed that the official would not speak 
of his own accord. 

Dawn referred to the telegram with a gentle flick 
of the finger. 


254 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


“The message which brought this answer was sent 
when?” he inquired softly. 

“Yesterday,” Inwood informed briefly, “at noon.” 

“Let me see,” Dawn reflected, “it was just three 
days ago that I was called in by Mr. Rhoades. Then 
my inquiry beat yours by two days.” 

Inwood gave a start of surprise. 

“You mean you wired the same question to Wash- 
ington the same morning you were called in?” he de- 
manded. 

Dawn nodded easily. 

“And you got an answer?” Inwood insisted. 

“The identical answer you received,” he replied suc- 
cinctly. 

“Which means you must have known for two days 
the game Merwin is playing,” Inwood returned, in as- 
tonishment. “I am afraid I do not understand you at 
all, Mr. Dawn.” 

“There are times when I do not understand my- 
self,” the official replied simply. 

“Yet you have taken no action against Merwin?” 
Inwood, demanded. 

“Why be content with skimmed milk when there is 
cream to be had?” Dawn replied, with a smile. “But 
I can see you are an unusually shrewd young man to 
have found out what you have. That same instinct 
has doubtless taught you the folly of speaking of this, 
or of allowing it to change your attitude toward Mr. 
Merwin. Fortunately, he considers me exceedingly 
stupid, and that is well. It would be even wise for 
you to foster that belief, if the occasion arose. But 
everything, Mr. Inwood, depends upon the next twen- 
ty-four hours. If I did. not know you were a man 
quite out of the ordinary, and therefore apt to make 
certain discoveries, I would not take the trouble to ask 
you to think several times before making any impor- 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


255 


tant move during that period. I think you understand, 
Mr. Inwood ?” 

“I am afraid there are many things I do not under- 
stand/' he returned, in a puzzled way. “There is, as 
you doubtless know,” he added hesitatingly, “a woman 
in this ” 

“I am fully aware of the part the woman is playing,” 
Dawn interrupted, with the attitude of a man who is 
tired of his interview. “For the present, I can say no 
more. You must pardon me now. My time is nearly 
up, and I must not lose all the fruits of this uncouth- 
ness which I carry about with me.” 

Dawn rose to his feet, but still Harney Inwood hesi- 
tated. There was so much the man could say if he 
only would. 

“You know, then, who are the people higher up than 
Merwin?” he pressed. 

“I am obliged to tell you that I do not,” Dawn re- 
plied. 

Inwood was well on his way to the Odelmans before 
he discovered the answer was not without its double 
meaning. 


XXII 


As he guided the roadster through the traffic, Har- 
ney Inwood found himself swayed by conflicting emo- 
tions. He fully realized that he should adopt some defi- 
nite attitude toward Lucia Langmuir, but he discov- 
ered he was totally unable to determine what that 
bearing should be. When he allowed himself to think 
of the girl in a detached manner, apart from the role 
she was playing in this national betrayal, he felt that 
he was in great danger of having his saner judgment 
swept away, for it was just such a summons as this 
which, a few days ago, would have meant everything 
in the world to him. Now, he must be on his guard 
against the one woman whom his every instinct sought 
to shield. 

Inwood realized the utter folly of attempting any 
further to disassociate the girl from the drama which 
was being played about them. Her own words con- 
victed her of complicity, no matter what she might 
say to him now. He had heard as well, from her own 
lips, that it was Lucia Langmuir who had asked to 
send for him. There was something he could do for 
them. A careful retrospection of events failed to show 
him what it was. It only left the man angered, to 
think he knew so much, or so little. 

Markus Odelman was negotiating with Andre Mer- 
win, he knew. Odelman’s words had told him that. 
And, above Merwin, there was some man, the direct 
representative of the most powerful enemv the world 
256 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


257 


could produce. Odelman must be that man, for did 
not his whole personal appearance point to that? In- 
wood checked his thoughts with a shiver. Perhaps it 
was worse even than his fears had pictured, for in 
that same net Lucia Langmuir was tangled. He re- 
called her words when she thought herself heard only 
by Markus Odelman, and he felt that nothing she 
could say now could quite free her from that net. 
There had been talk, he remembered with sudden an- 
ger, of playing upon his devotion. There had even 
been the inference in Odelman’s word and manner 
that whatever the girl chose to tell him need be only 
the creation of her imagination. Tell him something, 
that was it, to play upon his sympathies, his devotion, 
to win him to their side, for use in an emergency ! 

Harney Inwood slackened his pace, and he felt a 
little calmer. Somehow or other he had the conviction 
that the enemy were all but cornered and were fight- 
ing desperately; he had more confidence now in Don- 
egal Dawn than ever before. But that did not alter 
the fact that he would shortly hear a fanciful, plaus- 
ible story, perhaps one so plausible that all his in- 
clinations and judgment would tell him to accept it. 
Doubtless it would be one which he would be eager to 
accept, for the enemy, he had learned, did not lack in 
fertility of either brain or imagination. The greater 
their need, the more specious the story the girl would 
tell, and so the more reason why he should hold him- 
self upon his guard. 

Hold himself upon his guard against Lucia Lang- 
muir! Not accept the story she might tell as true to 
its last syllable? Harney Inwood shuddered from the 
ordeal which lay before him. It was in those factors, 
he knew, that he stood in danger of losing all judg- 
ment. If only he could look upon the matter dispas- 
sionately. It was quite impossible that the girl should 


258 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


lend her word to a statement merely planned to sound 
well in his ears. Yet only a few hours ago he had 
told himself that it was equally impossible that the 
girl should play any part in this nefarious scheme plot- 
ted for the nation’s discomfiture. And had he not 
heard, through the only senses which, under the cir- 
cumstances, he would credit, that hers was no small 
part, that she shared the confidences of Markus Odel- 
man? Inwood shrank from the future as from physi- 
cal pain. 

He must give up all attempt to determine in advance 
his attitude toward Lucia Langmuir. He must leave 
that to chance, to be decided, perhaps, by the girl’s 
story. Yet it was with a sinking of the heart and a 
fixed determination to place the personal considera- 
tions second, to hold a firm grip upon himself and re- 
member that there were great issues at stake, that he 
picked his way up the pathway to the Odelman man- 
sion, just as Andre Merwin had done but a few hours 
ago. 

Inwood was not surprised to find that the girl was 
waiting for him. She had been seated on a couch in 
an angle of the terrace, reading, but when the man 
approached she rose with that graceful ease which had 
appealed to him from the first as a mark of careful 
breeding. As she crossed the terrace quickly, he could 
see that her eyes were glad and welcoming, that all 
the weary droop of the night before had passed from 
her, that she seemed, perhaps, just a little more youth- 
ful and innocent than he had ever known her before. 
The tired lines which he had seen about her eyes were 
gone, any uncertainty in her manner had given way to 
the utmost frankness, and it almost seemed that she 
did not attempt to hide the fact that she was glad of 
the man’s presence. 

For an instant Harney Inwood forgot his purpose. 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


259 


He drew her out into the bright sunlight and looked 
full into her face. The girl was good to look upon. 
Even in that bright glare, he could find no flaw, in 
feature or manner. In that moment, the man felt as 
never before that she was something to prize and pos- 
sess, something — 

Inwood remembered the future with a start. 

“It was really very good of you to come, Mr. In- 
wood,” the girl greeted him. “Your butler seemed so 
uncertain about getting you that I was almost tempted 
to have Allen drive me over, though that, I suppose, 
would hardly have been proper.” 

If the girl was acting, it was the most consummate 
piece of craft the man had ever witnessed. While 
her manner was more open and natural than when he 
had seen her last, there was about her, at the same 
time, a trace of excitement well controlled, which lent 
a little extra tinge to the color of her cheeks, a keener 
sparkle to her eyes, a greater vivacity to her manner. 
As the man looked, the quick flash came to him that 
Lucia Langmuir’s bearing was that of a woman who 
has shaken some bondage from her. Then in the same 
instant he realized that he must hold himself in firmer 
check. It became very apparent to himself that in 
spite of all the warning of his intelligence, he was try- 
ing to believe this girl as guileless as at this moment 
she seemed to be. 

“You mean that it was good of you to ask me to 
come,” he returned a little stiffly, as he felt a keen 
flash of resentment at circumstances. He was thinking 
what this message would have meant to him had fate 
been kinder to them all. 

Something in the man’s manner reached the girl’s 
quick perception. She felt, from those few words, that 
he had changed since last she saw him. A moment ago 
he had drawn her out into the sunlight with that eager 


260 THE ENEMY WITHIN 

gesture which spoke of desire, only to thrust her from 
him. Now, in his voice, there was cold formality. 
Some of the shadow had slipped back into the girl’s 
face when she spoke again. 

“Let us go inside,” she suggested. “It is cool and 
nice in the library. We can sit and chat, for I have 
so much to say to you.” 

She was giving the man every opportunity to speak, 
yet he did not answer. Instead, he followed her in 
silence through the French windows into the spacious 
room beyond which seemed rich and dark with cool 
shadows. Even there he did not speak. He found a 
comfortable chair, seated himself with ostensible cool- 
ness, and sat in silence until the silence became all but 
painful. 

“You may smoke,” the girl said, with a trace of nerv- 
ousness. “I really wish you would.” 

No, it could hardly be possible that the girl was act- 
ing, for if she were it was the most wonderful thing 
he had ever seen. No actress could summon that 
dainty touch of color to her cheeks, that nervous little 
flutter of the lips which had accompanied the last 
words, that air of eagerness admixed with reserve. 

“You must pardon me if I have but little to say,” 
Inwood replied, as he felt his composure coming back 
to him, “for, you know, Lucia, it is really all a man 
could ask to be able to sit here and just look at you.” 

The girl laughed softly, yet with a trace of relief in 
her manner. That was more nearly the man she had 
once known. It would be much easier now. 

“I am afraid you are quite beyond cure,” she re- 
turned. “Don’t you think it would be possible for us 
to arrive at an understanding whereby you would be 
permitted to admire me all you liked, provided you 
didn’t speak of it or show it in your manner? You 
know, Mr. Inwood, you are really very nice, as a 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


261 


friend, but somehow it never seems quite right to 
think of you and sentiment at the same moment. It 
would be much more pleasant to know I could see you 
without having to face so many nice compliments. 
That made me really nervous about having you come 
over to-day. I will promise to try to remember that 
you are admiring me, when you look at me, if you will 
agree not to speak of it.” 

Inwood laughed in spite of himself, for the girl’s 
banter made her more natural still. 

“I fear it is quite impossible,” he replied lightly, 
“for between us there can be no makeshift, no half- 
way mark. I am not like the beggar, content with a 
crust. I must have everything, or nothing to remind 
me of what I might have had.” 

A faint flush stole into the girl’s cheeks, but it was 
not that which made the man almost forget himself. 
He had seen again, for an instant, that look of pain 
which flashed to the girl’s eyes, like some hidden emo- 
tion which for a moment had broken beyond control. 
There was in that some instinctive appeal for protec- 
tion, a sudden flaming out against circumstances, as 
though there were conflicting emotions pulling her in 
opposite ways. 

“And yet it is such a little thing that may bring about 
the parting of the ways,” the girl mused; “a lack of 
understanding, perhaps, a blindness which will not un- 
derstand, an impatience to see things which should re- 
main hidden from the eyes.” 

To the man the bare words meant nothing, but back 
of them he was hearing, in the tone of the girl’s voice, 
in her manner, an appeal which was all but irresistible. 
As he looked across at her where she sat at ease by 
the windows with the soft light falling all about her, 
he realized as never before just how wonderful she 
was ; that there was about her a fascination that piqued 


262 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


the imagination. He realized that whether she was in 
the right or the wrong, she was wonderful. Suppose 
she was in the wrong ? Inwood’s hands suddenly 
gripped the arms of his chair. There was something 
here he had quite overlooked. There was Donegal 
Dawn on the trail, Dawn the inscrutable, and he re- 
called now that when last he had seen him, there had 
been just a little suppressed elation in Dawn’s manner. 
And the success of Dawn meant what? In wood shud- 
dered when he thought of what it might mean to this 
girl. Yet when he thought again of what the failure 
of Donegal Dawn might mean, he felt a tightening 
about his lips. 

“You sent for me, for a purpose, I think,” Inwood 
replied, a little hoarsely. “If there is anything I can 
do for you, any way in which I can make the future 
easier for you, you have only to mention it. Perhaps, 
if you were willing to cut the thread of the past from 
you, the future would be a much different thing — to us 
all.” 

When the girl looked up, her eyes were luminous 
and filled with gratitude. 

“Now you are making it much easier for me,” she 
returned quickly. 

“I am merely suggesting,” the man returned softly, 
“that whatever the past may have been, it can be blot- 
ted out. You and I together could forget everything 
but the future.” 

The girl checked him with a quick gesture. 

“That is quite impossible,” she interposed, and it 
seemed that she thrust some momentary weakness from 
her. “There are things in the future much greater 
than you or I, much greater than my happiness or 
yours. Oh, I know what you were going to say. I 
would be blind, indeed, if I had not read your eyes and 
your lips. Please do not think me ungrateful. But 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


263 


just now time is too precious, the future too uncertain, 
for us to be even talking of such things. We must 
forget them. We must thrust everything into the 
background but one thing which lies just before us. 
It is true that I sent for you for a definite purpose, and 
I think you know now what it is. I am sure that you 
do. I think I even saw it in your manner that last 
evening when we sat in the sunken garden. Tell me, 
if you know.” 

‘‘I do not see any reason why you and I should be 
fencing with each other, Lucia,” Inwood returned 
slowly. “I came here to-day to help you, if I could, 
to help you to shake the whole past from you. I think 
it was that which brought me here even more than your 
message. There is much that is a mystery to me, there 
are things I do not understand, but if you will come 
with me and forget them all, I will never ask for their 
answer, Lucia.” 

The girl shook her head slowly. 

“It is quite impossible,” she replied quickly. “You 
do not understand. I sent for you to explain every- 
thing. I sent for you because you can help. And 
time just now is the most precious thing in the world. 
You can help, though there is not much you can do. 
It is rather the things you can refrain from doing that 
will make the future possible.” 

For a moment the man put his hands before his 
eyes, as though in pain, but it seemed that he could 
fight it off no longer. 

“I do not ask you to explain,” he repeated. “I only 
ask you to forget.” 

The girl laughed softly, musically, and the lights 
which came to her eyes were dazzling from their bril- 
liance. 

“I am afraid you are just a great big boy, Harney,” 
she replied, more slowly. “You are so easily read. 


264 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


You have condemned me for something, in advance. 
Yet you will not let me explain.” 

“It was of you only I was thinking,” he returned. 

“Then in justice to me, you must let me explain,” 
the girl replied. “Why should we hedge any longer? 
Perhaps it has been cruel of us to have kept you in 
suspense as long as we have, but it seemed for the best. 
As a matter of fact, it has been for the best, but per- 
haps you will be much relieved to know that the plans 
are perfectly safe.” 

“You mean Rhoades’ submarine plans?” Inwood 
asked gropingly, as though even yet he was trying to 
drive certain facts from him. 

The girl nodded simply. 

“So they are perfectly safe?” Inwood asked. “You 
mean ” 

“That we have them.” 

Inwood studied the girl for a long time, in a puz- 
zled way, yet he could see in her manner nothing but 
the utmost frankness, mixed with a little amusement 
at his confusion. It seemed that she was enjoying the 
situation modestly, yet with an eager expectation that 
the man himself would fall in with her ideals. 

“And just how is that going to help us?” he asked, 
with a slight hardening in his tones. 

Something in the man’s manner, in his voice, struck 
through the girl’s lighter mood so that all her momen- 
tary amusement faded from her features and left in 
its place only a great wonder. As he looked, Harney 
Inwood could see that wonder changing to resentment, 
he could see her eyes narrowing and a frown contract- 
ing between her brows, yet even in that mood she was 
fascinating, for her anger seemed rather the pain of 
one who has been injured wrongfully. It was going 
to be hard, very hard for the man, he knew. 

“You surely cannot mean to imply, Mr. Inwood,” 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


265 


she exclaimed, “that you have seriously considered 
for a moment that our interests have not been yours? 
I fancied from your manner that you had convicted 
me in your own mind of something. I believed, per- 
haps,” she went on more slowly, “that it might have 
been because we held the plans so long, without telling 
you. But surely, surely it cannot be that you have be- 
lieved us to be a part of — to be your enemies ?” 

So that was to be the girl’s story, that they were in 
reality friends. It was going to be much harder than 
the man had ever thought possible. 

“When you speak of yourself in the plural, just 
whom do you include ?” Inwood asked slowly. 

“Why, I thought you knew,” the girl replied, in a 
puzzled manner. “Mr. Markus Odelman, of course.” 

“I fancied as much,” Inwood returned. “But is that 
all?” 

“Why, certainly not. We have the regular organi- 
zation and staff of employees behind us, but Mr. Odel- 
man and myself make the most of the arrangements. 
At least, we must approve of them all; but I don’t 
quite understand the nature of all these questions.” 

“You must pardon me, Lucia, if I seem obtuse,” In- 
wood returned, with a smile which she did not recog- 
nize as a part of the man, for it was a smile which 
left her with a sudden inward panic, “but you have not 
told me yet just who is Mr. Markus Odelman. You 
must excuse me if I point out that certain personal in- 
quiries I have been making of late have forced upon 
me the conclusion that he is the head of an organiza- 
tion which is the worst possible enemy of the State.” 

Lucia Langmuir’s lips had become quite tight, and 
when he looked more closely, the man could see that 
the most of the color had left her cheeks. 

“And in that indictment you have coupled — me?” 
she asked, in a voice so low that he barely caught the 


266 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


words. For a moment he thought the girl was on the 
verge of collapse, then with a sudden rallying of 
strength she faced him firmly, a challenge in her every 
feature. 

“If the fear of just that thing has been the torment 
of my life for many hours,” Inwood replied, as he 
measured his words carefully, “you must remember 
that I have been permitted to see only certain things. 
You have not yet told me who is Mr. Odelman.” 

“Mr. Odelman, of course, is at the head of a de- 
partment of the American Secret Service,” the girl re- 
turned calmly, and it seemed to Inwood that as she 
spoke she was studying the effect of her words. “As 
for myself, I have been his first assistant.” 

The momentary joy which coursed through the veins 
of Harney Inwood came like a new lease of life, only 
to be thrust aside by his saner judgment. For had he 
not heard with his own senses that Lucia Langmuir 
was to tell him some story which would best serve the 
purpose of Markus Odelman, and what could better 
lull him into a sense of security than this? There was 
conflict in the man’s brain. His every impulse goaded 
him toward an acceptance of the girl’s story without 
question, his finer sensibilities revolted against doubt- 
ing the girl’s word, yet there were the facts of the past. 

“You must pardon me if I refrain from showing my 
great pleasure just yet,” he went on, and his voice 
sounded strange in his own ears; “I am trying to 
adjust my ideas to these new facts. Perhaps if you 
were to tell me more, it would be much easier for 
me.” 

“There is a trace of cruelty in all men,” Lucia Lang- 
muir went on slowly, “and I think that in you, Harney, 
it is very highly developed. But since it was my mes- 
sage which brought you here, perhaps I must tell you 
more. Months ago we got trace of this attempt to 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


267 


get control of the Rhoades submarine. We were 
working on the case when I first met you on the 
steamer from Tokio, though then we were on the 
wrong trail. We knew there were Chinese mixed up 
in it ; what we did not discover until later was that 
they were merely figureheads set up to direct atten- 
tion away from the real facts. We were still on the 
case when you followed us over to Honolulu. At that 
point we were almost deceived into a trip to Argentine. 
It was only by chance that we found the right trail 
which led us back to the place where we least expected 
to find the head of the plot, in the man’s own house- 
hold, and planned by the brain of ” 

“Andre Merwin,” Inwood filled in the pause. 

The girl nodded simply. 

“There are many things I do not understand,” the 
man pressed. 

“Perhaps I can explain,” the girl returned. “Per- 
haps then it will be easier for you to agree to the prop- 
osition I have to make to you; rather, the request I 
have to make.” 

“My whole efforts in the case,” Inwood resumed, 
“have been devoted to that organization which called 
itself the Unknown Quantity. Perhaps I have been 
stupid, but my every judgment told me that it led to 
Markus Odelman.” 

For a moment the girl studied the situation, as 
though uncertain just where to begin. 

“It is such a big thing, with so many angles,” she 
replied, at length, “I cannot tell you all now, for there 
is not the time. It was only two days before the plans 
were stolen that we suspected Merwin. Time was 
pressing. That organization was something planned 
overnight to force Merwin’s hand. It was absolutely 
essential that we know just where he stood, and our 
judgment of human nature told us that if he believed 


268 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


he had a rival he would lose no opportunity of getting 
possession of the plans.” 

“Still I do not understand,” Inwood urged. 

“I was forgetting that you have not our viewpoint,” 
the girl resumed. “The man you found tied up on 
the couch that morning, and who later escaped, was 
one of Merwin’s tools. I had intended him to fall 
into your hands.” 

“You had intended him ?” Inwood asked, in ut- 

ter amazement. 

“Yes, I wanted him to fall into the hands of the 
police,” the girl returned, as though she had not no- 
ticed the man’s astonishment. “I could not take him 
with me.” 

Harney Inwood was still staring at the girl in won- 
derment. 

“This is too romantic ; it is beyond me,” he burst out, 
at last. “You mean to say, Lucia, that it was you — 
that you were the woman he told us about?” 

“I presume so,” she replied calmly, “though I did 
not know he had told you about any woman. You 
already know how Merwin’s workers tricked Long- 
ley and how that dark man got into the Rhoades house 
that night. I followed, that is all. I assure you I 
would not have attempted such a thing except in an 
emergency. I happened to see the Chinese servant 
tampering with a basement window, so I knew I must 
act on my own initiative. I arrived in time to see 
Merwin’s man rifling the safe. When he put the plans 
in his pocket and lay down on the couch, he made mat- 
ters very easy for me. The rest you know.” 

“And the plans are safe?” 

“They are downtown in a safety vault.” 

“But I do not understand,” Inwood pressed. “With 
all this evidence against Merwin, why has Odelman 
not taken some action against him long ago ?” 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


269 


“Now we are coming to the object of your visit,” 
the girl replied readily. “Merwin is himself, in his 
turn, but a tool. What we really want is the brain 
higher up. To take Merwin and leave the man higher 
up would be like cutting the sapling at the foot of a 
tree.” 

“And you have hopes of taking the ruling brain?” 
Inwood asked eagerly. 

“It all depends upon a very delicate point,” the girl 
returned softly. “That is just where you can help. 
We had every reason to believe, Mr. Odelman and 
myself, that your suspicions had been already directed 
against Andre Merwin. We were right?” 

Inwood nodded his agreement. 

“We had no way of knowing whether or not you 
had any intention of proclaiming those suspicions,” the 
girl went on, more gently still. “They are suspicions 
which, if kept within certain bounds, can do no harm. 
Yet, if reaching certain ears, they might well tear down 
the whole delicate fabric which Mr. Odelman has been 
rearing. It is very essential that Mr. Merwin should 
not know that he is suspected. It is still more essen- 
tial, no matter what strange thing may seem to hap- 
pen in the future, that he should not have the slight- 
est inkling as to who Mr. Odelman is, or myself.” 

The man’s eyes narrowed in doubt. There was a 
great problem before him. 

“How long am I to remain silent?” he temporized. 

“For twenty-four hours, at the most.” 

“And if I were to tell what you have said to me?” 

“You would doubtless have upon your shoulders the 
nation’s humiliation,” Lucia Langmuir replied calmly. 
“Though I have given my word to Mr. Odelman that 
we could rely upon your judgment.” 

Inwood felt that in some subtle manner he had been 
trapped. To repeat what the girl had told him, he 


270 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


could appreciate, might mean the full measure of fatal- 
ity her words had predicted. To remain silent, on the 
other hand, might prove equally disastrous. Here was 
he, with the threads of a great plot in his hands, yet 
he was being bonded to inaction. Might it not be that 
Odelman had taken this effective way of silencing him? 
For twenty- four hours ! That had been the warning 
of Donegal Dawn. Yet to remain silent for twenty- 
four hours might be simply to permit the greatest coup 
of the ages to be accomplished before his eyes, and he 
the one man who could prevent it. If his earlier sus- 
picions were true, Odelman was equally interested with 
Merwin in that twenty-four-hour respite, he was 
equally interested in the success of their schemes, in 
the silence of Inwood. 

Yet here before him was Lucia Langmuir, her eyes 
bright and her cheeks slightly flushed with the excite- 
ment of the future, and with a manner which was in- 
nocent in its frankness. 

“Can’t you see,” she pleaded, “that if Merwin was 
to suspect our identity, even though it was but a 
breath of suspicion, he would not lead us to the man 
higher up? Our plans are so perfect now, it seemed 
almost a sin to take any chance of your breaking them 
down through lack of knowledge.” 

“And those plans ?” Inwood questioned. 

The girl shook her head slowly. 

“It is quite impossible that I should speak of them,” 
she replied. “But you will promise me to remain si- 
lent, Harney?” 

For a time the man did not speak. He was study- 
ing the face of the girl, pondering the future and all 
that depended upon his decision. 

“There was a time,” Lucia added softly, “when you 
were great enough and good enough to say you could 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


271 


take me on trust. I am asking you now, Harney, to 
live up to that. Perhaps I can see what is in your 
mind. I can forgive you if you are misjudging me 
and us. I know it is hard, and yet ” 

Inwood rose to his feet quickly and began walking 
about the room. 

“Please do not think I doubt you, Lucia,” he began ; 
then paused abruptly, as he realized that his indecision 
meant just the thing he was attempting to deny. If 
only he was big enough to accept her on trust ! 

“You will not think it unpardonable,” he went on, 
some time later, “if I attempt to — if I ’phone?” 

“To Donegal Dawn, no,” the girl replied readily. 

In wood gave a start of surprise, but he did not an- 
swer. Instead he crossed the room to the ’phone and 
called up headquarters in the hope that Dawn might 
not yet have left his office. His efforts were useless, 
and he knew from Dawn’s own words that it would be 
hours before he could find him again. 

“Mr. Dawn was not in,” he explained, as he re- 
turned to the girl. 

The girl’s face became suddenly expressionless. 

“You will be able to see him soon, I hope?” she 
asked. 

“I fear not,” Inwood replied. “As a matter of fact, 
I have just left him. He said it would be some hours 
before I could see him again.” 

“That is unfortunate,” Lucia Langmuir returned 
slowly. “If you must speak at all, I would like it to 
be to Donegal Dawn. Would it be too much to ask 
you to keep your own counsel until you see Mr. 
Dawn ?” 

“You are willing that I should speak to him, should 
tell him what you have told me?” Inwood asked 
eagerly. 


272 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


“Of course, you poor boy,” the girl returned, with 
a smile. “He will need to be told sooner or later, and 
I can see no harm in telling him to-night.” 

“You are implying that he does not yet know,” In- 
wood replied, and his manner was a question. 

“So far as I am aware, Mr. Dawn knows absolutely 
nothing about me,” the girl declared readily enough. 
“I have never spoken to the man. The Secret Serv- 
ice and the police do not necessarily work together ; 
there are very apparent reasons why we should 
not.” 

To the man it seemed, with the girl’s words, that a 
part of the burden fell from him. There was a re- 
turn of animation in his voice and manner when he 
spoke again. 

“The fact that you are willing for me to speak to 
Dawn is ample reason why I should accede to your 
wishes,” he replied quickly. “I give you my prom- 
ise.” 

“You will not have reason to regret it,” Lucia Lang- 
muir returned softly. 

“Perhaps there are other ways in which I can help,” 
the man suggested eagerly. “You know, I am in 
reality as deeply interested as Cheever Rhoades.” 

It was a moment before the girl answered. 

“Perhaps,” she murmured; “I hardly know. If 
there should be, I will send a message to your house.” 

“And I will answer it,” he responded gladly. “But 
is there nothing you can tell me of your plans ?” 

“I am afraid not,” she replied slowly. “But no 
matter what happens, you can still trust in me.” 

As Harney Inwood found his way down the path to 
the roadster, it almost seemed to him that there was 
something sinister in the girl’s last words; there was 
something in them very like a plea for forgiveness. 
He had driven many blocks before he recalled his 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


273 


earlier fears, before he remembered as well that he had 
gone to her armed against any story, no matter how 
plausible. Was the explanation of Lucia Langmuir 

merely plausible, or was it A sudden shade of 

doubt crossed the man’s features, and mingled with it 
was anger at his own lack of faith. 


XXIII 


Andre Merwin’s eyes glimmered like pin-points of 
fire as they wandered indolently over the small audi- 
ence of his followers. There was in their depths the 
softness of an elation kept well in control, and there 
was in his voice and manner that nicety of address and 
superfluous precision which served as a barometer to 
the man’s moods. Even the casual observer could 
have told now that Merwin felt himself master of the 
situation. It seemed, as well, that he took a certain 
amount of secret satisfaction out of these conferences, 
this ruling of his little kingdom, as it were. 

So, having satisfied himself that the audience was 
complete, Andre Merwin lit a cigarette with delicate 
care, and when he beamed out upon his followers his 
eyes became more sparkling still. 

Matt Croucher stirred restlessly. He had learned 
that this intensity of benevolence on the part of Mer- 
win had all too often been but the presage of the re- 
finement of deviltry. 

“Ah,” Merwin murmured, with a sort of purring 
accent, “our good friend Matt grows eager to hear 
your story, Benson. He is doubtless keen to offer some 
form of advice. But just a moment, Benson. You 
may all have noticed that we have in our midst a 
stranger, a total stranger to all — except myself. Do 
not let that spoil the occasion. It must not alarm you 
or mar the frankness of your suggestions. He is a 
very good friend of ours, a Mr. Dumars, commonly 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


275 


known as ‘Cactus/ It is an appellation which appeals 
to me, it smacks of efficiency. Mr. Dumars, I may say, 
is the envoy of our new allies. His presence here is a 
guarantee of good faith on their part and on ours. It 
may even be possible that he can help us in this new 
emergency. Mr. Dumars, will you do me the great 
honor of occupying a seat by my side?” 

Andre Merwin rose to his feet gracefully, his very 
manner a compliment, and waited until Dumars had 
crossed the few paces to his side. The stranger, it 
could be seen at a glance, was well nicknamed. He 
was considerably above medium height, and there was 
about his countenance a certain swarthiness and keen- 
ness of feature which made one readily appreciate why 
the intimates of his earlier days had dubbed him Cac- 
tus. Just now he seated himself, without speaking, in 
a deck chair by Merwin’s side, helped himself to one 
of the latter’s cigarettes, and composed himself as 
might a spectator at some new scene. 

“Mr. Dumars, as you all may see,” Merwin went 
on, “is a man in whom to place the utmost confidence. 
I think now, Benson, you may repeat the story you told 
me but an hour ago.” 

When Benson rose in his place, it seemed that his 
face was unusually pale and that his manner was 
touched with venom. It was with difficulty that he 
controlled his voice. 

“What’s the use of repeating it?” he demanded. 
“I’ve told everybody already. They all know what 
I’ve contended from the first, that this man Inwood is 
a menace. And now, what did he do at noon but put 
his finger right into the center of it all. He and 
Rhoades were in the library for nearly an hour, dis- 
cussing that correspondence which I sent from Wash- 
ington. Inwood read over all the letters, and while I 
could not hear much that was said, I understand he 


276 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


has sent a telegram to Washington, to the Depart- 
ment of State, to see whether or not they have had any 
dealings with Rhoades over the submarine. It doesn’t 
take much intelligence to see what that means. When 
Inwood gets that answer, and that is a thing we can- 
not prevent, he will know at once where the trouble is, 
and Mr. Merwin here, and all the rest of us, will find 
ourselves in the hands of the authorities. It’s as plain 
as day that Mr. Merwin’s integrity is already doubted, 
or Inwood would never have sent that wire to Wash- 
ington ” 

Benson’s emotions were capable of much further 
expression, but Andre Merwin, with a graceful wave 
of his hand, checked the flood of words. 

“Of course I appreciate that you have all known 
these facts for some minutes,” Merwin addressed his 
audience, as Benson took his seat again, “and that is 
why we are gathered here. You, gentlemen, are act- 
ing in the capacity of a jury. In wood is the man ac- 
cused ; it remains for you to decide his fate. You do 
not need to bring me into it at all, or consider me in 
the least, for my future is provided for. If Inwood 
— -ah — lives to get that telegram, your intelligence tells 
you what that means. It means that Benson, and 
Croucher, and Nallfar, and Kingway, and all the rest 
of you will never be safe on this continent again. 
There will always be the shadow of uncertainty hang- 
ing over you. On the other hand, we are in no imme- 
diate danger. It is barely two hours before we sail to 
meet the Man Higher Up. Yet let me think again! 
I said there was no immediate danger. Is it possible 
that I have been overlooking something? Did you 
not tell me, Dumars, that the man Inwood has a 
scouting plane of the latest type, fresh from Eng- 
land?” 

“A wonderful little machine, fully equipped,” Du- 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


277 


mars returned carelessly, “with wireless and machine 
gun and seating capacity for two/’ 

Andre Merwin reflected for a moment in silence, 
and through that interval he could hear with delight 
the angry murmur of his followers. 

“So you see, my friends, the immediate present is 
not without its great dangers,” Merwin resumed. 
“There are also warships off this coast. I do not wish 
to influence your decision, gentlemen, but I merely 
wish to point out that if Inwood learns what he is apt 
to learn within an hour or two, matters are much worse 
than we ever fancied. At the best, instead of the yacht 
returning to port, we would have to make for some 
new point. Inwood’s scouting plane, I understand, 
is very fast. He could easily keep in touch with us 
and signal to a warship, for the man, you must remem- 
ber, has proved himself to be unusually intelligent.” 

Kingway rose to his feet, and his features seemed 
swollen with anger. 

“Just a moment, my dear Kingway,” Merwin re- 
turned complacently, as he waved the man to his seat. 
“No jury is capable of coming to a wise decision until 
it is possessed of all the facts. This point remains: 
Do you, or do you not, wish further commissions, gen- 
erous ones, I may say, from other work of this sort? 
I gather, from the attitude of the Man Higher Up that 
there is much more work of the kind to be done along 
the western coast ; as a matter of fact, it would seem 
that the lap of luxury is just beginning to open before 
you. That, however, is something which may not ap- 
peal to you in the least. You may be perfectly content 
with the past and with its competence. There may be 
other points, but those should be sufficient ” 

From the medley of voices which followed there 
could be no doubt as to the attitude of Andre Merwin’s 
followers. With the exception of Matt Croucher, all 


278 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


were on their feet at once, suggesting dire things as 
the fate of Harney Inwood. 

Merwin interrupted, with a wave of his hand. 

“Gentlemen, you astonish me,” he exclaimed gravely. 
“I gather that your opinions are unanimous. We will 
let Kingway express it.” 

“Leave the man to me,” that stolid individual blurted 
out, with difficulty. 

Andre Merwin arched his eyebrows delicately, as he 
glanced slowly around his audience. 

“You all appreciate just what that means,” he re- 
minded seriously. “If there are objections to make, 
now is the time to voice them.” 

Merwin paused perceptibly. There was no reply. 

“You must remember, Kingway,” he addressed that 
youth, “I wash my hands of the affair entirely. But 
the matter is one which requires finesse. Have you 
any suggestions to make as to what will happen?” 

Kingway glowered, but remained for a time in si- 
lence. ■ 

“If somebody’ll get him on the yacht for me, I’ll do 
the rest,” he declared at last. 

“You must remember we are to have passengers,” 
Merwin replied, “among them a lady. There must be 
nothing to mar the pleasantness of the voyage. My 
sense of delicacy shrinks from such a thing. Perhaps 
you were about to suggest something further, King- 
way ?” 

“You mean I can’t do anything on the boat?” he de- 
manded sullenly. 

“Nor anywhere, while the lady is about,” Merwin 
returned, with that accent which all recognized as 
finality. 

Again there was a period of silence, and through it 
Andre Merwin glanced at Cactus Dumars. That per- 
son, he discovered, was still smoking as calmly ar 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


279 


though the matter under discussion was no more seri- 
ous than a rainy day. It even seemed that he was 
slightly bored. Instinctively Merwir. felt himself 
warming to this man, for it was poise such as this that 
he admired. 

“Then leave me and him together on the island, 
alone,” Kingway suggested, as his countenance be- 
came, if possible, even more heavy and brutal. 

“I perceive you are a man of ideas, Kingway,” Mer- 
win complimented, as he sighed gently. “The matter 
is settled.” 

“Except for getting the man on board,” Benson sug- 
gested. 

At this point, Cactus Dumars deliberately snuffed 
his cigarette, and looked at Merwin steadily. 

“If I may be permitted to help?” he asked. 

Merwin nodded simply. 

“Having been admitted to your counsels,” Dumars 
went on gravely, “I feel myself under some obligation 
to give evidence of good faith. I will undertake to 
make it easy for Kingway and for you all by bringing 
Inwood aboard.” 

“My dear Dumars, we could not think of it,” Mer- 
win protested, though without his usual strength of 
manner. 

“That’s quite all right,” Dumars waved the protest 
aside. “You sail, I understand, at six?” 

Merwin agreed. 

“The Odelman party arrives at ” 

“Five-forty-five, precisely,” Merwin informed. 

“If you will have the launch at the regular dock at 
five-thirty, I will bring the man aboard,” Dumars in- 
formed confidently. “May I be permitted to look about 
the cabins now? He will need to be concealed some- 
where.” 

As Dumars rose to his feet to look over the yacht, 


280 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


the gathering broke up, with the air of men whose 
work for the time is finished. Croucher lumbered his 
way across the deck to Andre Merwin. The latter 
greeted him warmly. 

“A very capable man is Dumars, eh, Matt ?” 

“Helped you out of a hole beautifully,” Croucher 
agreed. “But what was that stuff you were giving us 
about more work along the coast? Was it just a little 
more talk for artistic effect?” 

“My dear Matt, how you misjudge me,” Merwin 
rebuked, with a smile. “There is more work to be done 
than you and I could accomplish in a lifetime, and 
there is more wealth to be had than we could spend in 
a dozen.” 

Croucher reflected. Yet when his eyes rested again 
on Merwin, there was in them a twinkle of merriment, 
of understanding, and a little admiration. 

“From the Man Higher Up, of course,” Croucher 
mused. 

Merwin agreed. 

“You might at least tell me if he represents, we will 
call them, the barbarians of Europe,” Croucher urged. 

“I do not mind telling you now that he does,” Mer- 
win returned. 

Croucher smiled into the other’s eyes, yet when he 
left the deck he was chuckling softly to himself. 


XXIV 


By the time Harney Inwood reached his own home 
his peace of mind was suffering a severe strain. From 
the national standpoint, he could not conjure up a 
single reason why he should have accepted the state- 
ment of Lucia Langmuir for its surface value; there 
were even moments, after he had relived his conversa- 
tion with the girl step by step, when he asked himself 
if there had not been some hypnotic influence lulling 
him into a feeling of security. 

Inwood tried to compose himself as best he could 
within sound of his own ’phone. As the afternoon 
dragged away, he wandered about his rooms restlessly, 
but could find no distraction sufficient to occupy his 
mind. He attempted to reach Benton Longley with a 
message, but without success, after which he began to 
long most ardently for the return of Donegal Dawn. 
If only he might shift the burden from his shoulders to 
those of Dawn ! 

Inwood paused abruptly in the aimless circle he was 
making about the library. There had come to him, 
with a distinct shock, the memory that it was only after 
Lucia Langmuir had learned that Dawn could not be 
reached for several hours, that she had asked him to 
impart his information to that official. Could there be 
any significance in that? Harney Inwood became an- 
gered at the thought, but he could not drive it from 
him. For a time he smoked rapidly, sending great 
puffs of smoke about his head, but it brought no re- 


282 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


lief. The idea was clinging to him like an evil taint 
of the past. 

It was with a distinct sense of relief that he finally 
saw a man walking up the flower-bordered pathway 
leading to the front entrance to the house. Inwood 
studied the figure shrewdly, and though the man’s face 
was turned from him, there was something in the 
stranger’s pose which appealed to his memory. 

He was still trying to identify that page of his mem- 
ory when Parker entered with a card. Inwood took it 
and glanced at the name. 

“Mr. Cactus Dumars,” he said aloud. “Have you 
ever seen the man before, Parker ?” 

Parker disclaimed all knowledge of the visitor. 

Harney Inwood so placed himself that the stranger 
must cross the room with the light full in his face, but 
there was no need for that. Scarcely had Dumars en- 
tered the room before Inwood gave a start of astonish- 
ment. 

“I think we have met before, under peculiar circum- 
stances,” he greeted his visitor, still toying with the 
card, “though the name hardly seems familiar.” 

Cactus Dumars laughed easily. 

“I am a child of circumstances,” he returned, lightly. 
“I rather think, Mr. Inwood, that I won my bet the 
other night.” 

“Unless I am much mistaken,” Inwood replied coolly, 
“it was a man by the name of Sylvester.” 

“Now that makes me go into a family secret,” Du- 
mars laughed again. “My name is Sylvester Dumars, 
but I couldn’t stand that, not with the face nature gave 
me, so I long ago crossed out the Sylvester and let 
folks call me Cactus.” 

“All of which is most interesting,” Inwood agreed. 
“But I presume you have come about the wager.” 

“There is no use of my trying to deny such an ap- 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


283 


parent fact, Mr. Inwood,” the man admitted readily. 
“The wager was, I think, a debt of gratitude/’ 

“To him who needs it first,” Inwood supplemented. 

“And you lost, and I need it,” Dumars added 
heartily 

“Would you mind telling me just what I can do. for 
you, Mr. Dumars?” Inwood asked, as he tendered a 
cigarette. He felt a momentary gratification toward 
this man, who had at least taken his mind from more 
serious problems. 

“In the first place,” Dumars returned slowly, “you 
can exercise a whole lot of patience, and you can be- 
lieve that I have come here with your best interests at 
heart ” 

Dumars paused as though uncertain how to con- 
tinue, but finding no help from his host, he re- 
sumed : 

“To come straight to the point, Miss Langmuir told 
you less than a week ago that if you could be of any 
help she’d let you know. Well, she’s letting you know 
now.” 

Inwood stared at the man for some time before he 
could formulate his thoughts into any definite shape. 

“You mean that Miss Langmuir needs me?” he 
asked slowly. 

“That’s what it amounts to,” Dumars declared. 

Inwood rose to his feet quickly, as though eager for 
action. 

“There is doubtless more than that to the message ?” 
he questioned, as he noticed that Dumars made no 
motion to move from his position. 

“A whole lot,” the visitor agreed; “there are some 
things I would like to tell you, if I only knew to what 
extent you possess discretion.” 

“Sometimes I doubt if I have even a trace of it,” 
Inwood replied bitterly. “But you may proceed.” 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


284 

Cactus Dumars studied his man carefully before 
continuing. 

“Of course you recognize me as one of Odelman’s 
hands,” he went on, “but did you know that Odelman 
and Miss Langmuir are about to leave with Merwin 
to meet — the man at the head of it all?” 

“Miss Langmuir said something about it,” Inwood 
returned, as he steadied himself with an effort, “though 
she was not very definite.” 

“Well, I am more definite,” Dumars returned calmly. 
“They leave shortly, on Merwin’s yacht. Miss Lang- 
muir asks if you will accompany them.” 

“If I will accompany them?” Inwood exclaimed. 
“Why, when last I saw her ” 

“That’s quite all right,” Dumars interposed ; “I fully 
understand. I may have used the phrase too broadly. 
You are to be on the boat, though not of the party. I 
see you grasp the situation. Yes, Miss Langmuir 
thinks that at the end there may be work for you 
to do.” 

Harney Inwood laughed excitedly. 

“You mean you have come to get me on board the 
yacht in some manner or other?” he demanded. 

“I would not have come had I not known the way,” 
Dumars replied simply. “If you have decided to go, 
there is little time to be lost.” 

Inwood led the way from the house, pausing just 
long enough to scrawl a message to Donegal Dawn. 
This he entrusted to Parker. A few minutes later they 
were on their way to the docks, in a car which Du- 
mars provided. 

In the brain of Harney In wood, as they speeded 
along, there was but the one dominant theme: Lucia 
Langmuir needed him in a moment of crisis, and she 
had sent for him. How absurd had been his earlier 
doubts ! They had been no more than mists, to be dis- 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


285 


persed before the sun of this newly found happiness. 
There might be dangers, but what were dangers, com- 
pared to a faith which need no longer be doubted? 

Almost before he realized it, they were at the docks. 
Dumars parked the car, then led the way to a little- 
used float just off the foot of Market Street. There 
he indicated a launch which was unoccupied. 

“Just step in, and I’ll have you over to the yacht in 
no time.” 

For the fraction of a moment there was doubt and 
surprise on Inwood’s countenance, and it was some- 
thing which did not escape the keen eye of Cactus 
Dumars. 

“Perhaps I should explain,” Dumars said easily. 
“Merwin needed extra help on the yacht for the trip. 
I’m one of the men loaned by Odelman. If you will 
step in, we will have to hurry, for I have just fifteen 
minutes before I must take Merwin and his party 
aboard. At present there is no one aboard the yacht 
but the crew, and, well, they are not in the habit of 
asking questions.” 

Inwood found the trip across the Bay exhilarating. 
There was still much he did not understand, but it was 
action he was to have at last. Already he was build- 
ing into the future, when the voice of Dumars inter- 
rupted his thoughts. 

“I will merely steer alongside the yacht slowly,” Du- 
mars was saying. “There will be none of the crew on 
the port side. When we arrive, I will indicate a door. 
You will step quickly from the launch to the railing of 
the yacht and enter that door. It is a disused state- 
room, but you will find it comfortable. There is an 
easy-chair inside, a couch and plenty to eat and drink. 
You see, I have not been thoughtless. I only ask that 
you do not smoke while there are people in the dining 
room, which should not be for long. Quiet is also es- 


286 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


sential, for it would not be well for Merwin to find 
you aboard. There is only a thin partition separating 
you from the dining room, and immediately under, be- 
low decks, is the crew’s quarters. I tell you these 
things for your own protection, for I agree that the 
situation is not without its hazards. We are almost 
there. It is the first door from the rear. Remember 
that, as a last warning, no matter what you hear, or 
think you hear, or what you may feel like doing, you 
are not to betray your presence by making any noise 
or outcry. I will come to you at the right time. I 
wish you good luck, Mr. Inwood. Now is the time to 
jump.” 

Without taking time to reply, Harney Inwood sprang 
for the railing of the yacht, caught it, swung himself 
over to the promenade, and paused with his hand on 
the knob of the door. Already the yacht was many 
yards away, and as he turned, Cactus Dumars waved 
him a jaunty farewell. Aboard the yacht In wood had 
seen no signs of life. He stepped through the door- 
way, as Dumars had instructed. 

As he closed it behind him, he heard the sharp click 
of the lock. Swept by a momentary fear, Inwood tried 
to turn the handle again, but found that it was securely 
fastened. 


XXV 


For some time Harney Inwood stood there, with- 
out moving, his hand still on the knob of the door. 
Had he been cleverly trapped, or was he about to play 
an important part in a great international drama? 

Inwood was listening intently. He was straining his 
every faculty to catch some minute sound from which 
he might read more than the bare facts proclaimed on 
their surface. Though the Bay was almost a dead 
calm, he could hear from near by the subdued mur- 
mur of the tide as it lapped the sides of the yacht; it 
was a gentle whispering sound which spoke only of 
peace, and which seemed to have no place whatever in 
the spirit of intrigue all about him. Somewhere below 
a stoker was whistling at his work ; from time to time, 
from various parts of the yacht, he could hear the loud 
banter of the crew as they prepared the vessel for its 
voyage. From across the water there came to him the 
multiplex echoes of this inland navigation, from more 
distant came the hoarse murmur of the land, but 
through it all he could detect nothing which had any 
bearing whatever upon himself. 

His hand fell from the knob with a sigh of relief. 
After all, it was Lucia Langmuir who had sent for 
him, and he had gone quite too far, he had given her 
too much of his trust to be able to turn back now. 
For the time being, he was just as much a prisoner as 
though all the barriers of the world had been closed 
about him, but whatever the future might provide, he 


288 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


was at least comfortable for the meantime. His first 
attention was given to a careful scrutiny of the room 
in which he was imprisoned, and he found it to be very 
much as Cactus Dumars had stated. It was in reality 
a small stateroom which had doubtless been used as a 
storeroom, but which had been hastily fitted up for his 
accommodation. 

There was but the one door, the one through which 
he had come with such great trust, or was it merely 
credulity ? On one side was a stateroom bunk. At its 
head was a small table filled with what must have been 
edibles, at his feet was a comfortable chair. Beyond 
that, there seemed little of contents or of space. Above 
the door was the regular narrow latticed air-hole, 
which for this room served also as the only window. 
Beyond that, he could see no openings leading from 
the chamber. For a moment, oppressed by the sense 
of helpless confinement, and suffering from the panic 
which that brings to the hearts of all creatures, Inwood 
felt a sudden determination to force his way out into 
the daylight. Then just as abruptly he recalled the 
warning of Cactus Dumars. There was nothing left 
for him to do but wait. 

Inwood seated himself as calmly as possible, but the 
strain of waiting for Cactus Dumars, he felt, would be 
terrible. Some time later he began to finger over the 
articles on the table, and upon raising the covering 
cloth he was gratified to find several popular magazines 
before him. Whoever had prepared this room had at 
least been thoughtful, but the discovery was hardly 
cheerful, as it seemed to indicate that many hours must 
be spent in this confinement. 

Abruptly he remembered that Dumars must be back 
soon with the Merwin party. That might at least pro- 
vide some distraction. He might even hear things 
which would smooth out the future, for sounds, he 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


289 


had already discovered, carried with almost alarming 
freedom on this small craft. 

It seemed but a very short time before he heard 
again the exhaust of the launch, and he could tell from 
the direction of the sounds that the party had drawn 
up on the opposite side of the yacht. He could hear 
the disjointed sound of voices, and through it came a 
soft peal of laughter which sent a warm thrill through 
his veins. It was indeed Lucia Langmuir. There was 
a medley of voices now from all parts of the ship, as 
the crew seemed suddenly to break into the activities 
of life. From time to time he heard footsteps passing 
his door ; from various parts of the yacht he could hear 
Lucia’s voice or her laughter, and he gathered from 
the mingling of sounds that Andre Merwin was show- 
ing her over the vessel. There were just the two of 
them together, he fancied; he could hear their voices 
drawing nearer. Now they were coming down the port 
side of the ship, and it Seemed that wherever she went 
Lucia Langmuir was asking questions. They stopped 
very close to him, so close that Inwood could catch 
every inflection in the girl’s voice, and when she spoke 
he could almost feel that she was thinking of him. 

“And what have you in this room, Mr. Merwin?” 
she was asking casually, and Inwood could fancy her 
pointing to his door. “I must say it is the most gloomy- 
looking part of the ship. Bars above the doorway. I 
almost believe it is a jail.” 

Merwin laughed with careful inflection before he 
replied : 

“Rubbish, my dear girl, just rubbish, which will be 
left on the island.” 

Inwood could tell that even as Merwin spoke they 
were passing on down the deck, but in the man’s tones 
there was something which did not add to his comfort. 
There was in his voice a cold brutality, masked by out- 


290 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


ward pleasantry, which Inwood had not heard before. 
He shivered slightly. Could it be possible that Mer- 
win knew ? But no, that was absurdity. He must get 
a firmer grip upon himself. 

A few minutes after the first confusion of their ar- 
rival, Inwood could feel that the yacht was under way, 
and by standing on the end of the bunk and peering 
through the latticed opening he could tell that they 
were following the main roadstead through the Golden 
Gate out to the ocean. With the throbbing of the en- 
gine in his ears and the swishing of the water against 
the sides of the vessel, he noted that sounds were much 
more elusive things than they had been at first, and it 
was only when people were quite near that he could 
overhear their words. For a long time there came a 
period when no one was near, and the only human 
sounds he heard were the occasional footsteps of a 
deckhand or of a passenger passing down the prom- 
enade. It was tedious waiting. There was little to be 
gained from staring through the narrow opening at 
the hills, and it required a greater concentration than 
he possessed to be able to settle down to reading the 
stories of fiction, when all about him was a reality 
more poignant and gripping than any imagination could 
conjure. 

Harney Inwood settled himself down to wait as best 
he_ could. He was afraid to smoke, for occasionally, in 
the room opposite, he could hear footsteps as though 
some softfooted steward was giving his own personal 
attention to a meal which must follow. Once he caught 
the voice of Andre Merwin admonishing some helper 
to spare no pains, that immediately before them was a 
great occasion, then for a still longer period the only 
sounds of humanity were those soft padding footsteps 
of the steward. 

Inwood moved no oftener than was necessary, and 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


291 


even then only when there seemed to be no occupant of 
the dining room, but by occasionally pulling himself up 
to the porthole he tried to follow their course. He 
could easily tell by the increased motion and vibration 
of the yacht when they passed beyond the land shelter 
of the harbor, out into the ocean, but from there he 
seemed to lose all trace of direction. He fancied that 
for an hour or more they sailed straight into the west, 
then came several quick turns which altered their di- 
rection entirely, and even though he stared more 
eagerly than ever through the lattice he could catch no 
sight of land. By this time the dusk was drawing 
about them, cutting off the world like a curtain, rob- 
bing him of his one chance of getting his bearings 
from the lights of the sky. Inwood suddenly realized 
that his sense of location was gone. For all he could 
say, they might be sailing either up or down the coast, 
or straight out into the ocean. 

From the moment the darkness cut off the world, the 
strain of waiting became intense, and he lost all idea 
of the passing of time. It might have been a half hour 
or an hour later, though he judged it to be around 
nine oclock, when he again heard the voice of Andre 
Merwin addressing the steward, and it was with a 
feeling of relief that Inwood learned that dinner was 
about to be served. The party had been withdrawn to 
other parts of the vessel for so long that he could an- 
ticipate a sense of comradeship in their promised near- 
ness. He would at least be able to hear their voices 
and study the thoughts in the brains behind them. 

The party entered the dining room in silence. In- 
wood could fancy them being ushered gracefully to 
their places by Andre Merwin ; he tried to count their 
numbers, and was astonished to identify only four — 
Lucia Langmuir, Markus Odelman, Dumars, and Mer- 
win himself. 


292 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


“My dear friends,” he heard Merwin begin as soon 
as they were seated — “for I feel I can now call you 
that — as you see, we are a very select little party, come 
together to celebrate a memorable occasion. I am 
quite sure you can all pardon the lateness of the din- 
ner. It was a whim of mine not to have dinner until 
we could be assured of the triumph of our endeavors, 
until we could have this new sauce to lend zest to our 
appetites. It is really wonderful what a knowledge 
you have of human nature, Mr. Odelman,” he went on 
smoothly, after a brief pause. “I have a message here 
which justifies your predictions to the full. No, you 
must not be alarmed. The wireless wasn’t even a code. 
It was just a few set words arranged in advance, which 
could mean absolutely nothing to any one else. To you 
the message means absolutely nothing, I presume, Mr. 
Odelman ?” 

A moment later, through which it seemed Odelman 
must have been studying something in silence, Inwood 
could hear the latter’s voice, and in it was a tone of 
admiration. 

“To me it is as worthless as last year’s springtime,” 
he returned. 

“Interpreted briefly,” Merwin resumed, “it means 
that Rhoades and his party, in charge of Donegal 
Dawn, left in the submarine from the Navy Yard at 
nine-thirty, just a quarter of an hour ago, which, at 
their estimated speed, means that they will arrive at 
the island just a half hour behind us, and just fifteen 
minutes later than the Baron. My dear Odelman, this 
is a triumph of your brain, the timing could not have 
been more perfect. And your knowledge of human 
nature is marvelous.” 

“Does it say anything of the strength of Dawn’s 
party?” Odelman asked. “Just now that is the most 
important feature.” 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


293 


“You must pardon me, I was forgetting,” Merwin 
returned smoothly. “It says that in addition to the 
crew, there were six men in Dawn’s party, including 
himself and Rhoades.” 

Through the interlude which followed, Inwood could 
hear the laughter of Markus Odelman, laughter which 
somehow or other succeeded in imparting a spirit of 
joviality to the whole gathering. 

“My dear Merwin,” Odelman returned, when he 
could control himself, “this is quite too good to be true. 
Did ever people shove their heads into a noose more 
smoothly? But are you quite sure your authority is 
reliable ?” 

“Absolutely,” Merwin returned, with conviction. 

“And the man you sent to lead them here is trust- 
worthy?” Odelman urged. “As you know, of course, 
everything depends on our party arriving first.” 

“Idle fears,” Merwin laughed tolerantly. “Matt 
Croucher’s the man I sent. You may not know him, 
but he’s a real artist in his own way. Why, Croucher 
took to it with such spirit that when he left me I 
could almost fancy he really had a grievance against 
us. You can depend on Matt, Mr. Odelman. The 
story he told will bring Dawn and his crew here at 
the exact minute, and not before. The rest remains 
for us.” 

“You relieve my mind greatly,” Odelman replied, 
and Inwood believed he could detect real sincerity in 
the man’s tones. “Well, since we are here for the 
purpose, we may just as well plan things out in ad- 
vance. What really counts now is man power. I 
think you told me this morning while we were discuss- 
ing the point that you had a crew of six, in addition 
to five who are riding as passengers.” 

“Quite right,” Merwin responded. “But numbered 
in the five were Croucher and myself. Personally, I 


29 4 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


can take no part in what happens at the dock. You 
and I, Mr. Odelman, will need to be up at the cottage 
with the Baron. That leaves Kingway, Nallfar, Ben- 
son and the six of the crew.” 

“In addition to my six men, seven, counting Dumars 
here,” Odelman supplemented, “which means that we 
will have a total force of sixteen men to devote to the 
capture of the submarine.” 

“Not including the men you have succeeded in plac- 
ing among the crew of the submarine,” Merwin re- 
minded, with a harsh laugh. “Tust how many are there, 
Odelman ?” 

“What is the exact number, Cactus ?” Odelman asked 
his associate. “That was your part of the work.” 

“There are eight of our men on the boat, not count- 
ing Croucher,” Dumars informed readily. 

“Very good,” Odelman seemed to be meditating. 
“Of course, the whole success of any great undertak- 
ing depends on foresight. What do you think, Mer- 
win, will be their most probable course of action ?” 

Though Harney Inwood pressed close to the thin 
partition, straining to catch the least sound, it seemed 
to him several minutes before there were voices again. 
The man’s blood was surging through his veins wildly, 
and it was only by a great effort that he held himself 
from crying out against their treachery, but somehow, 
through it all, he seemed to appreciate that his only 
possible hope of service lay in silence. 

“Placing myself in their position,” Merwin went on 
slowly, at length, “I would consider myself stalking an 
enemy who hadn’t the least expectation of an attack. 
I would go directly to the wharf at the island — which 
Croucher knows all about — I would land a number of 
my men quietly and take possession of the yacht which 
will be lying there. I would feel, if I was Donegal 
Dawn, that once having possession of the yacht and 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


295 


its crew, there could be no escape for the man whom 
Croucher has told him will be there to-night/’ 

“There is no other possible landing place?” Lucia 
Langmuir asked quietly, and at the sound of her voice 
the man in hiding all but lost his self-possession. 

“Even if there was, Croucher would not let them 
make use of it,” Merwin returned, with assurance. 
“That is why Croucher is with them. We can make it 
still easier for them to follow our theory by berthing 
the yacht as near the shore as possible. That will 
leave the open end of the dock for them to land upon, 
which will give them a feeling of security. We can 
also give the yacht the appearance of being unguarded, 
and at the same time place our men at strategic points 
to capture any who attack it.” 

From his position, Inwood could hear that Odelman 
was laughing gently. 

“My dear Merwin,” Markus Odelman exclaimed, “it 
has become so easy as quite to lack the sporting blood. 
We have enough men to pull the thing off success- 
fully, even without my men, who will remain inside to 
take charge of the submarine. You and I, Merwin, 
may wash our hands of the whole matter. We can go 
up to your cottage in peace and quietness, to engage in 
a high ethical discussion with the Baron, while we 
leave this work in the hands of others. Does that not 
suit you, Mr. Merwin?” 

“It has always been my principle to have nothing 
whatever to do with things of this kind, personally,” 
Merwin returned calmly. “It appeals to my instincts 
to arrange them, then leave the crude work to others. 
Whom shall we put in charge ?” 

“I would suggest that you each name a man, to work 
together,” the girl interposed. 

“Really a clever idea,” Merwin rejoined. “If that 
meets with your approval, I will name Kingway.” 


296 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


“And I Cactus Dumars,” Odelman replied care- 
lessly. “Cactus, you have heard our plans. You can 
doubtless carry them out to the letter ?” 

“Unquestionably,” Dumars returned. “If I may be 
permitted, I will go and discuss the matter with King- 
way now. There is barely an hour to spare.” 

“Really, is success so near as that?” Merwin ques- 
tioned, with a laugh. “But we seem to have left you 
out entirely, Miss Langmuir.” 

“I am content to wait to serve,” the girl replied 
gravely. “The future, you know, is a wonderful 
thing.” 

“It would be, indeed, were I but a few years 
younger,” Merwin suggested gracefully. “What do 
you say, Miss Langmuir, shall we take our coffee on 
deck? It is a remarkable night.” 

Harney Inwood, crouching in his position, with his 
face pressed firmly against the wall, heard them go, 
and from the sound of their voices and laughter now 
they seemed to differ in no way from any one of a 
hundred other pleasure parties. If difference there 
was, it was in a little extra elation. 

Even after they had left the room and he could no 
longer hear their voices, Inwood crouched there, all 
but motionless, until he heard once more the soft- 
footed steward padding his way about the room. Then, 
when finally he pulled himself back to his chair, he 
found that his fingers were trembling and that there 
were great beads of perspiration on his forehead. The 
strain had been a terrible one. It was perhaps the 
greatest mental shock he had received in his whole life. 

Yet, bad as seemed the situation, there was one ray 
of light. It was Lucia Langmuir who had sent for him, 
and Cactus Dumars was to come to him some time in 
the night. At least, that was what Inwood tried to 
force himself to believe. 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


297 


What if Dumars did not come? What if there was 
treachery somewhere, toward himself ? Then he alone 
was the only man who could warn Donegal Dawn. 

Slowly, with this thought of action, the man’s rea- 
soning came back to him. His earlier inspection had 
told him that there was but the one exit from the 
stateroom. Harney Inwood searched his pockets, but 
the nearest approach he could come to any serviceable 
tool or weapon was a small pearl-handled knife which 
seemed flexible even between his fingers. 

Inwood rose to his feet and studied the situation 
carefully. Then slowly, with infinite care, he turned 
his chair around to face the door, seated himself, and 
began to carve away the wood from around the lock. 


XXVI 


As Harney Inwood worked, he felt that it was only 
this action which kept his brain rational. At times his 
blood seemed to be coursing through his veins like 
fire. Again, his fingers seemed weak and all but nerve- 
less, while a cold, clammy fear pressed upon him like 
some tangible element forming itself out of the dark- 
ness for the destruction of all that the man held sacred. 
It was not a personal fear of violence or pain or death 
which oppressed him like a pall ; it was rather the 
agony of doubt which at times left his brain numb and 
his hands all but paralyzed, which seemed like some 
monster tearing with cruel fingers at his faith in Lucia 
Langmuir. At times, as the man crouched there in 
the darkness, it seemed that his trust in the girl was 
some object which stood off from him at a great dis- 
tance, and that way off there in the darkness there was 
himself battling with an overwhelming flood of cir- 
cumstances which had all but snatched it from him. 
There were times, as the man crouched there, with fin- 
gers working feverishly, when he felt that he had quite 
lost all grip on himself, that the world could never be 
a reality again. 

Then later he knew it was only the darkness and 
the close, stuffy atmosphere which had made him give 
way to such unhealthy thoughts. Inwood stood erect, 
breathed in great gulps of the cleaner air through the 
latticework, and already he felt his brain clearing. 
There came back to him as well, with insistent force, 
298 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


299 


the belief that it was only himself who could save Don- 
egal Dawn and his party, who could forestall all the 
disaster the failure of Dawn would mean to humanity. 
To Lucia Langmuir, he persisted in his faith. The 
girl, he was telling himself, might have some plans for 
their salvation, but, whatever they were, they must be 
desperate ones. No, it remained for him, and him 
alone, to ward off disaster. 

With this emergency confronting hinj, Harney In- 
wood became himself again. He must formulate some 
plans. The man sat down quietly to think. After a 
while he reached out, and by feeling with his fingers, 
he discovered that he had all but cut a semicircle about 
the fastening of the door. By standing up and putting a 
slight pressure against the panels, he found that when 
the right time came it would be a simple matter to put 
his weight against the door and free himself from this 
captivity. The temptation was strong upon him to 
break through his bondage now, but with an effort he 
restrained himself from that folly. But the mere 
knowledge that he could escape when the proper mo- 
ment came gave him a greater feeling of security. It 
settled his brain, it cleared the future to such an extent 
that he could now visualize the part he must play. 
There would come a time, he knew, from the plotting 
he had overheard from the dining room, when Markus 
Odelman and Andre Merwin would go away, when this 
yacht would become as still and lifeless as the grave, 
when the submarine would draw up to the end of the 
dock, when Donegal Dawn and his party would land. 

That would be his time for action, or never. To act 
then would be at least to put Dawn upon his guard, at 
the worst it would give them a fair chance to fight it 
out. If he delayed, there would be the greater weight 
of numbers hurled upon them. There would be hu- 
miliation, there would be death. There would, per- 


300 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


haps, be national defeat. Harney Inwood could feel 
the blood running again through his veins like fire, 
when he realized, with a sudden shock of surprise, that 
the fate of the nation, of the whole world, perhaps, 
might be hinging upon his act of a single moment. He 
was astonished to find, when that hot wave had passed, 
that he was cool and calm again, that he was looking 
out upon the future with the placid view of the fatal- 
ist, though with an undercurrent of eagerness. He 
found, as well, that all thought of self, or of personal 
happiness, had been driven from him, that there was 
but the one dominant theme in his brain, and that was 
to live up to the greatness of the hour of need. 

Even as the man felt this calm resolve sweeping 
over him like a wave of peace, he sensed some per- 
ceptible change in the course of the yacht. It was 
changing direction and slackening speed. Though In- 
wood had lost all trace of time, though the night had 
seemed like an eternity, he knew they had been under 
way only a few hours. He judged it to be around 
midnight, but whatever the hour, it became very ap- 
parent, from the sudden confusion of noises among the 
crew, that preparations were being made for a land- 
ing. Inwood stood on the end of the bunk and stared 
through the latticework, but all he could see was a 
dark lusterless expanse of sky which swept down to 
meet the still darker reach of the ocean. It was a clear 
night, he could tell, but it was moonless and all but 
starless, an admirable setting, he felt, for black deeds 
of treachery. 

At last, as the yacht swerved around, and as Inwood 
kept his eyes fixed on the skyline, he detected that for 
which he had been waiting. A blacker mass rose slowly 
out of the black skyline, and as the yacht was swung 
about still more he could see that they had come into 
a wide, curving bay, where the water was calming. At 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


301 


length he detected, what must have been a dock, with 
a couple of lights at the end of it, and a row of lights 
reaching back into the land. So far as Inwood could 
tell, those lights appeared to end at the base of a high 
cliff, from the top of which he could see the twinkling 
of more lights. But beyond that, there were no signs 
of life. For all he could tell, it might have been the 
approach to any one of a thousand seaside homes, but 
of one thing he could be sure, and it was that the place 
seemed gloomy and somber enough for the blackest of 
midnight deeds. 

Inwood stood at the airhole and watched that black 
mass of landscape grow into a cliff towering above 
them, and on his side of the vessel the line of the cliff 
circled out like an arm about to enfold them, an arm 
black and shadowy in its mystery. It was with an 
elation of thankfulness that Inwood noticed that the 
yacht had come to anchorage on its starboard, with his 
side of the ship facing away from the dock, out toward 
the blackness of the land and water. By looking back- 
ward now, he could tell that the dock was of consid- 
erable length, for at some distance behind them were 
the twin lights at the end, with its clusters of lights 
running up one side. 

That, he felt, would make his work much easier for 
him. Fortune had turned her face upon him at last. 
He would wait until Donegal Dawn’s party had disem- 
barked at the end of the dock, he would break down 
his door as quietly as he could, slip down the prom- 
enade, leap to the dock, and give the alarm. It might 
mean death, but it might mean as well the salvation of 
the world. As the warm thrill touched his veins again, 
In wood stepped down from the bunk and seated him- 
self calmly in the chair. He must make no noise until 
the climactic moment came. He could tell from the 
multifold noises all about that the yacht had come to 


302 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


anchor, but that there had been no one on the dock to 
meet them. He even heard the voice of Andre Merwin 
commenting critically upon that point. 

As the confusion of landing died away, Inwood could 
distinguish their various movements. He could feel, 
as well, that except for the noise of their own small 
world, they were in a part of the world where silence 
held its rule with a sort of oppressive grandeur. Har- 
ney Inwood shuddered at the gloom and mystery of 
the scene. Again he caught the voices of the party. 
Odelman and Merwin and Lucia Langmuir had left 
the yacht, and with a few careless words which seemed 
forced in their lightness, they were passing up the 
dock into the shadows at the foot of the cliff. 

At last all sound of them died away, and the only 
noises which came to him were the moaning of the 
surf on some distant part of the island, a sort of 
eerie whistling of the wind, and these natural noises 
of a ship’s crew settling down to rest. The moments 
of waiting were growing tense, and to try to still their 
fever, Inwood began picturing the scene of the future. 

There were footsteps coming toward him, along the 
promenade! Inwood sat more erect, with a start of 
surprise. There was something here which he had 
quite overlooked, something which might tear down his 
whole fabric. Yet there was no time to redraft his 
plans, for the steps were almost upon him. He could 
only hope that the man who came would not discover 
the carved door. For the moment, the thought of vio- 
lence flashed over him. Should he strangle this man 
who was coming to him? But he suddenly realized 
that, strong as he was, he could not hope to accomplish 
that without alarming the whole vessel. So he sat 
tense in the darkness. 

The door opened softly, and the figure of a man was 
limned against the darkness. It was Cactus Dumars. 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


303 


With a terrible feeling of agony, Inwood saw that 
Dumars’ fingers were playing over the lock. Yet the 
man stepped inside the stateroom and closed the door 
after him. He even produced a small ship’s lantern 
from under his coat, sat it upon the table, and shielded 
its rays from the latticed airhole before he turned to 
speak to Inwood, 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said, with a tone 
of sympathy, as he nodded toward the doorway. 
“Some of the crew might have heard you, or have come 
and found it. Though God knows I don’t blame you. 
The strain of waiting, after what you heard from the 
dining room to-night, must have been awful.” 

The conflict between evident facts and the stories 
of men was more than Inwood could endure. 

“Surely you are not going to ask me to believe in 
you after what I overheard to-night?” Inwood asked 
bitterly. 

“Now don’t be foolish,” Dumars laughed softly. “I 
have come to tell you something, to show how you may 
play your part. Listen.” 

Dumars’s voice sank to a whisper, as he continued: 

“Do you know that you are to be murdered to-mor- 
row ?” Dumars asked swiftly ; “that the plans of Mer- 
win are to leave you here on the island, alone, with a 
devil called Kingway? Because you have learned too 
much. Surely, if a man is to be murdered to-morrow, 
he may have his fling to-night. Yes, surely a man may 
have his fling. Well, Inwood, I am going to send this 
man Kingway to you. I am going to tell him that 
the ban has been lifted and that he may work his will 
to-night. And with Kingway, his will is fanaticism.” 

Cactus Dumars paused, and studied the man 
shrewdly. He could see that Inwood’s lips had grown 
straight and firm, that there was in his eyes the keen 
fire of battle, and that there was something more which 


304 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


spoke of activity held too long in repression. On the 
whole, he saw in Harney Inwood something which 
seemed to please him very much, for his lips parted in 
slow laughter. 

“Yes,” he resumed, “I think it is quite safe to send 
Kingway to you. And there is little time to be lost. 
Just pull that chair back a trifle, to give more room. 
Now here is something to keep in your hand, for a 
man must have his fling.” 

As he spoke, Cactus Dumars pulled a black, cylin- 
drical object from his coat and handed it to Inwood. 
With almost the same motion, he picked up the ship’s 
lantern, extinguished it, and slipped through the door- 
way quietly, closing it behind him. 

Inwood found himself standing alone, in the dark- 
ness, with some heavy, yet exceedingly pliable object 
in his hand. As he listened to the receding footsteps 
of Cactus Dumars, he felt out with his left hand in 
an attempt to identify that which Dumars had left 
with him. A moment later he knew it to be a formid- 
able weapon, a club about a foot in length, with a 
leather grip, and weighted at the farther end. 

The man stood absolutely motionless, it seemed to 
him, for ages. At length, from below, he heard loud 
laughter. He heard the raucous voice of blasphemy 
and the sound of a man climbing a stairway. It 
seemed to Inwood that there were more than one, but 
he could not be quite sure. He knew only that foot- 
steps were coming for the second time down that 
promenade, that out there was a creature with murder 
in his heart, and that the hand which gripped his 
weapon was growing painful. 

Again the door of the stateroom opened, and out- 
lined against the sky was a figure which he had never 
seen before. It seemed heavy and powerful, and the 
massive head upon the broad shoulders was bent for- 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


305 


ward like that of an animal which scents its prey. 
Inwood could see that the lips were parted in an ugly 
manner; he almost fancied that the eyes shone through 
the darkness like fire. The man stepped forward with 
something which sounded very much like a snarl. 

As he did so, Harney Inwood struck savagely, just 
the once. 

Some of the white heat of anger had left him when 
he stepped over the prostrate form to the promenade 
beyond. There he found Cactus Dumars bent over a 
second form. And it seemed that Cactus was lashing 
the other’s arms with swift movements. 

“That’s two of them gone,” said Cactus briefly, 
when he straightened his lank form. “You’d better 
tie up Kingway, to make sure.” 

A moment later, Inwood, like a man in a dream, 
followed Cactus Dumars down the promenade, and 
down a flight of stairs to a lower deck. There Du- 
mars motioned to him to remain in the shadows, while 
he advanced into the decked space, and looked about 
him carelessly. Inwood saw that the men were gath- 
ered about in clusters ; he also fancied there was some- 
thing significant in Dumars’s manner. 

“Well, Cactus, did Kingway eat him alive ?” a coarse 
voice asked, with still coarser laughter, and at 
sound of that voice and the laugh which went 
around the room, Inwood’s momentary remorse left 
him. 

“He’s quite done for,” Dumars returned carelessly, 
and as he spoke he raised something to his lips. Im- 
mediately there followed two low, sharp blasts from 
a whistle. 

A number of the men looked at him in astonish- 
ment, others opened their lips to speak, but the words 
were never spoken. Even as their lips parted, seven 
men drew mysteriously dark objects from their cloth- 


306 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


in g and brought them down with vigor upon the heads 
of seven other men. 

Dumars looked about him idly for a moment, then 
he turned to Inwood. 

“And that’s the whole crew of them gone,” Cactus 
said gently. “Come.” 

As Dumars spoke he turned his back on the scene 
and led the way out to the cliffs. 


XXVII 


For a few minutes the three chatted and idled about 
the remarkably cosy living room of the cottage at the 
summit of the cliffs. It was a beautiful place, reflect- 
ing to the full the artistic pretensions of Andre Mer- 
win, but just now it seemed that appreciation of his 
surroundings was dormant in the brain of Merwin. 
He wandered about the room aimlessly, and he glanced 
at his watch every minute or two. He was palpably 
ill at ease, as though the strain of waiting was begin- 
ning to tell upon him at the last moment. 

“I am always this way just before a big moment,” 
Merwin apologized. “I am a little nervous now, but 
when the time comes I will be myself again.” 

“There is no doubt of it,” Markus Odelman replied, 
with voice and manner which seemed totally indiffer- 
ent to the situation or his surroundings. “It is a min- 
ute or two before midnight. The Baron should be 
here at any time now. Do you not think we owe it to 
him at least to walk out to the brow of the cliff to 
greet him?” 

“I think I will go alone,” Merwin returned, as the 
prospect of action seemed to steady him. “It would be 
much less of a shock to the dear Baron to meet you 
here than outside in the dark.” 

“Just as you say, Mr. Merwin,” Odelman rejoined 
indifferently. “We will await your return with impa- 
tience.” 

As he spoke, Andre Merwin left the room, closing 
307 


308 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


the door firmly behind him. With a few noiseless steps 
Markus Odelman crossed the room after him, and 
when he paused in front of the closed door his attitude 
seemed that of a man listening. For a full minute he 
stood there tense and moveless; then, as he glanced 
swiftly about the room, it appeared that his attention 
was drawn to the windows. 

“They are all tightly shuttered,” Lucia Langmuir re- 
plied, as she interpreted the meaning of that glance. 

Markus Odelman sighed in relief, and he made a 
movement of the hand which the girl evidently under- 
stood. She began moving rapidly about the room, but 
Odelman held his post by the door, listening in- 
tently. 

A few minutes later, when Andre Merwin returned 
with a big, bulky person, who seemed taciturn and 
domineering, Odelman was sitting idly smoking a cig- 
arette, while the girl was carelessly fingering the leaves 
of a book. 

Merwin brushed into the room breezily, with the 
air of a man who is slightly over-strained, but the 
blocky figure paused in the doorway, and as he peered 
about the room his eyes seemed like darts of fire. He 
seemed like a man very much accustomed to having 
his own way in the world, and when Odelman glanced 
in his direction he knew there could be no doubt as to 
the man’s nationality. His features were too broad 
and squat, his figure too heavy, and his manner too 
arrogant to admit of any doubt. Yet Odelman merely 
brushed the ash from his cigarette, without rising, and 
he had the air of a man who returns to his private con- 
templations. 

A sound which, coming from any less distinguished 
a personage than the Baron, might have been called a 
snort of disgust, was the man’s first introduction. A 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


309 


moment later the Baron stepped into the room and 
closed the door behind him. 

“So these are the people, Merwin?” he demanded, 
with no attempt at courtesy, “the ones you had to get 
to help you out.” 

“I beg of you, my dear Baron, to appreciate that 
they have done wonderful work,” Merwin, in the pres- 
ence of a greater, was plainly of the sycophant type. 
“Permit me to introduce them. You will find them 
most charming people.” 

“I don’t care whether they’re charming or what 
they are,” the Baron interrupted coldly. “What I 
want to know is, can they work?” 

But in spite of his attitude the Baron permitted an 
introduction; then he indicated a round table in the 
center of the room from which he brushed some books 
before drawing up his chair. 

“Come,” he commanded peremptorily, “my time 
counts. You have the plans, Merwin?” 

“Mr. Markus Odelman has them,” Merwin returned, 
in fawning tones. “You remember, my dear Baron, I 
told you it was he who took them.” 

“Don’t dear me any more, Merwin,” the Baron re- 
turned sharply. “Come, Odelman, the plans ! I know 
something about submarines, and before you get your 
money I’m going to see there’s nothing put over. Now 
pull up your chairs to the table.” 

Odelman drew a package from his pocket and 
handed it to the Baron calmly, but instead of seating 
himself as instructed, he stood back a few paces just 
beyond the circle of light thrown by the reading lamp 
on the table. As he stood there, hands clasped behind 
his back, he was smoking calmly. The Baron glanced 
at him with a gesture of impatience, then settled to a 
study of the blueprints. For a long time, as the min- 


310 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


utes passed, there was silence all about them, the only 
sounds being the crackling of the paper as the Baron 
shifted the sheets to concentrate upon some new fea- 
ture. 

As he drew back finally, many minutes later, the 
man permitted the severity of his countenance to relax 
into the semblance of a smile. At least, it seemed there 
was some approach to geniality when he spoke again. 

“They are really wonderful, Odelman,” the Baron 
declared ; “much better than I had hoped. Now, your 
reward, Odelman.” 

“Nothing but the love of service,” Odelman replied 
calmly, as he flicked the ash from his cigarette. 

“You see, my dear Baron, it is this way,” Merwin 
hastily interposed. “Mr. Odelman regards this as his 
first attempt. He brings it as his credentials for fur- 
ther service, and in this you must not overlook Miss 
Langmuir, for it was she, I believe, who so success- 
fully took possession of the plans.” 

The Baron leaned back and twirled his thumbs con- 
templatively. 

“So,” he commented some time later, “you have been 
wise enough to see that there is much other work to be 
done in this country for the Fatherland?” 

Odelman bowed, without speaking. 

“There are times,” the Baron resumed, as the aus- 
terity of his manner broke down, “when I have 
dreamed of having just such a man as you, Odelman, 
one who would feel that the service of the country 
came first and all other things after.” 

“You flatter me,” Odelman returned. “Service to 
one’s country always comes first in a time like this.” 

The Baron remained silent for a moment or two ; 
then, when he leaned forward across the table, there 
was eagerness in his manner. 

“Please sit down, Mr. Odelman,” he begged, and 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


311 


Odelman took his seat across the table from the man. 

“You are the man I have been looking for, Mr. 
Odelman,” the Baron announced, with the air of one 
who confers favors, but the man addressed remained 
silent. 

“The man,” the Baron went on, “who can take com- 
plete charge of our Hidden Army on this coast. I, as 
you know, am not in high grace at Washington. Per- 
haps I must leave any day ; yet there must be left be- 
hind a man of your type, with keen intelligence, who 
can take charge of our activities here, of, we call it for 
the sake of convenience, the Hidden Army.” 

“Meaning by that ?” Odelman asked quietly. 

“Immediately war is declared and I am forced to 
withdraw from the country, there must be a systematic 
campaign of terror all through the country,” the Baron 
enlarged upon his idea. “The workers in that cam- 
paign we call the Hidden Army, because they must 
strike in the dark. The high post of commander is 
yours, my dear Odelman ; do you care to accept it ?” 

Odelman’s eyes were bright with fire as he replied : 

“And the work, the specific work?” 

“Must I be definite with you, a man who evidently 
knows what will cripple most the enemy, what will 
help most the Fatherland?” the Baron asked. “My 
dear fellow, with you in charge, a man who succeeded 
where Merwin failed, I can go home in peace, know- 
ing the enemy within will bring terror to the people. I 
only suggest that the greater the terror the greater the 
reward, so shrink at nothing. I mean that, literally, 
nothing counts — neither property nor human lives ; 
they are all yours, to throw into the cauldron which 
in the end will burn away all dross between us and 
victory. You accept, my dear Odelman?” 

“And for the girl, Miss Langmuir?” Odelman tem- 
porized. 


312 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


“There is our love, our great gratitude, and what- 
ever reward you think best — but what is this interrup- 
tion, Merwin?” 

As the Baron paused and looked in the direction of 
approaching footsteps, all the softness went out of his 
manner, and in its place there came the pose of sav- 
agery. 

Merwin rushed to the door, and as he did so it was 
flung open upon him. Yet Merwin drew back with a 
gesture of relief. 

“Ah, Croucher,” he exclaimed, “you are here so 
soon ?” 

It seemed that Matt Croucher did not notice the 
man before him, nor did he sense the fact that he was 
breaking in upon a solemn conference, for he strode 
past Andre Merwin and paused before Odelman. 

“You have succeeded, Croucher?” Odelman asked 
quietly. 

The big man nodded, without speaking, and as he 
stood there so still and rigid he seemed to be strug- 
gling against a great passion. 

“You mean that everything has been finished?” 
Odelman pressed. 

Still Croucher did not speak. His only answer was 
a swift nod of the head. 

“My dear Baron, this is really wonderful news,” 
Merwin broke in. “It means that my man here, Matt 
Croucher, has taken possession of the submarine as 
well, and has brought it here. It is down there at the 
wharf now, Matt?” 

Merwin’s manner was all eagerness, he was so 
elated at this evident success that he quite overlooked 
the fact that Croucher’s features were savage like 
those of an animal. He quite overlooked the fact as 
well that the Baron’s gaze had shifted to the features 
of Markus Odelman, and that he apparently found 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


313 


something there which held him fascinated. It was 
further evident that the Baron totally lacked the keen 
appreciation which he should have shown for this 
new triumph of Andre Merwin. His eyes seemed to 
be centering upon Odelman with a fatal glare. 

Markus Odelman turned to the girl still seated 
calmly in the glare of light. 

“ I believe it is all over, Lucia,” he said softly. 

Lucia Langmuir, as though at a signal, rose from 
her position and seemed to be removing some small 
object from the wall before them. 

The Baron’s eyes darted after her, with a flare of 
fire. 

“What is that thing you have in your hand, woman?” 
he demanded, in a voice thick with sudden anger. 

“My dear Baron, you astonish me,” Odelman inter- 
posed, quite calmly. “It is a matter of trifling impor- 
tance, merely a microphone attached to a dictaphone 
in the next room.” 

Terror flashed to the eyes of Andre Merwin, brutal 
savagery to those of the Baron. 

“And just who is in the next room?” the Baron 
demanded thickly. “Who put that instrument there?” 

“Really there is no occasion for excitement, my dear 
Baron,” Odelman replied; “but if you insist upon 
knowing, I believe Donegal Dawn put it there this 
forenoon.” 

“And who are you ?” the Baron thundered. “Speak 
up, man.” 

“Why, I am Markus Odelman of course. Though 
I protest your attitude annoys me.” 

“And who is Markus Odelman?” the Baron de- 
manded, with still greater vigor. 

“If you must know, I am head of the Pacific branch 
of the American Secret Service.” 

For a time there was the silence of tragedy in the 


314 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


room. No one spoke or moved for the passing of 
many minutes. Andre Merwin was the first to break 
beneath the strain. He collapsed into his chair with 
a cry of fear. 

“Odelman, you are not going to leave this room 
alive,” the Baron declared heavily, as he made a move 
towards his pocket. 

“I wouldn’t do that,” Odelman protested easily, 
“In the first place, you have been covered for the past 
five minutes by a man whom you cannot see, and who 
will shoot you on sight if it is necessary, and in the 
second place, if you did shoot you would only add 
murder to your other sins.” 

The Baron turned to Merwin with bitterness and - 
scorn upon his lips. 

“Haven’t you a man to your name?” he demanded. 

Merwin half raised himself from his chair as he 
looked eagerly at Matt Croucher. 

“Can’t you get us out of this, Matt?” he pleaded, but 
Croucher’s only attitude was to take a quick step 
towards him. 

At that moment Lucia Langmuir left the room si- 
lently. 

“Really, Merwin, you must not blame Croucher be- 
cause he has some principles,” Odelman interjected 
pleasantly. “You have bungled all through. Even 
the Baron will admit that now. But perhaps your 
greatest, your one inexcusable blunder, Merwin, came 
when you mistook our type of citizen. You have even 
misjudged Matt Croucher. Croucher is a man who 
does not shrink at anything, at crime or murder, when 
it is a mere matter of gain which is at stake, but now 
when it is the country which is at stake the type of 
Matt Croucher has reasserted itself.” 

“It can’t be true. Matt,” Merwin pleaded, “You 
haven’t deserted me?” 


THE ENEMY WITHIN 


315 


“No, Andre, I will be with you to the end, to your 
very end,” Croucher returned in his bass whisper, and 
there was something feline in the movement with 
which he began to cross the room, “You tried to make 
a dog of me, Merwin, me, an American citizen, but 
don’t be surprised if the dog bites.” 

As Croucher crept closer, Merwin cringed back 
into his chair. His lips were white and there was 
terror in his eyes as he shrieked out: 

“Croucher, what are you going to do?” 

“Nothing, Andre, but choke the life out of you with 
these little fingers.” 

“Come, Baron,” Odelman suggested, as he put a 
hand on the Baron’s shoulder, “I know you must 
shrink from such scenes as these. We will go.” 

“I demand to be put back on my steamer,” the 
Baron’s voice had lost much of its truculence. 

“That will be for our authorities to say/’ Odelman 
returned. “In the meantime I must inform you that 
the submarine has taken possession of the steamer. 
You will find us most considerate, Baron.” 

As Markus Odelman led the way to the brow of the 
cliff, he saw two figures outlined against the darkness 
of the sky, figures which seemed to have forgotten 
that there was any other world but theirs. Odelman 
slipped by silently, with a smile on his lips. 

“There may be some things to explain,” he said to 
himself softly, “but the girl is wise and the man is 
reasonable.” 

A few moments later he saw them, Harney Inwood 
and Lucia Langmuir, coming slowly down the path- 
way to the dock, arm in arm, and still there was that 
attitude about them which somehow or other shut out 
the great wide world. 


















